The Scarlet Woman (A Hetalia Germany Baby Daddy Story)
by Jurana Keri
Summary: After giving into a mysteriously beautiful seductress, Ludwig faces a challenge he was never...expecting. This was originally supposed to be only a lemon on my Blogspot, but I decided to make it into a story to tell readers what happened afterwards. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

Ludwig spent a long, hard day in his office filling out paperwork and making sure his secretary knew where to send it all out. By the end if the day, his broad shoulders were sore and his back hurt immensely despite that he spent most of the day in a chair. Once he got home, Feliciano (Italy) opened the door for him and put his coat on the rack, but didn't help him relax in the manner he usually did. Instead, he led Ludwig to a room where the doorway was covered by a thick, black velvet curtain. Ludwig looked at Feliciano suspiciously, puzzled by the curtain. He then realized that it was the door to the basement; he never went down there unless he and Prussia were using the secret bar area to drink late at night.

"Let me guess," Ludwig began. "Prussia is down there?"

"No," Feliciano said in his usual cheerful tone of voice. "But there is a surprise down there for you. Look and see."

"Alright," the German agreed. "But if it is something stupid-"

"I swear! It's not!" Feliciano said, raising his right hand as if he were reciting a pledge. Shaking his head, Ludwig drew back the curtain and walked down the steps. It was unusually dim at this time of night, but it was when he reached the bottom landing that he saw candles of all shapes and sizes lit in many parts of the room. Ludwig also noticed that the scenery was much different from when he last left it-the bar was moved aside along with its matching stools, the beer kegs had been taken out, the blinds on the small windows were drawn down, but what caught his attention the most was the trail of red rose petals leading to the fold-down bed, which was decorated with a richly-hued crimson satin bedspread; on top of which a beautiful woman laid on her side staring lustfully at Ludwig with her great dark eyes.

Ludwig's jaw dropped; he had never met this mysterious beauty, but he felt a strange connection with her, as if he had seen her somewhere before. Her hair was cherry red, and her eyes, though very dark, seemed to have a red, satanic glow emanating from them. She wore a red and black lace corset that pushed her breasts up in the right places, a garter belt that held up her black garters and black stockings. On her feet were stilettos that were the same color as her flaming red hair, and her hands and forearms were concealed by black satin ballroom gloves. Her face looked adorable and her neck, which was adorned by a black rose choker, was as thin and graceful as a swans.

"Hallo," he greeted the girl seductively. In response, the girl stood up and strutted over toward him, holding one of this thick, calloused hands.

"Who are you?" He was irritated by her silence, but in a way, it made her ten times hotter to him; she was mysterious, what else could he expect? _If this was the surprise Italy was talking about_, he thought,_ I will give him something even better in return. This is the best surprise I've gotten in a long time_.

"Call me Krista," she said in a calming, soft voice. "What is your name, handsome?" Ludwig blushed as she led him to the bed. They sat down, and she began kneading his broad, manly shoulders. Ludwig really was starting to enjoy himself.

"I'm...Ludwig," he told her calmly.

"Hmm," she purred, kneading slightly harder into his shoulder muscles. "Where are you from?"

"Germany," Ludwig answered. "In fact, I _am_ Germany." Krista laughed at this thought.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's...hard to explain. You wouldn't understand, anyway," Ludwig said with a groan, enjoying his massage. Krista's touch felt amazing; he could only imagine how her touch felt on other parts of his body. She continued massaging his shoulders, but then she straddled his lap; Ludwig was turned on that her breasts were right in front of his face.

"Did that feel good?" she asked, trying to tempt him. He smiled devilishly and blushed like crazy, nodding in response.

"Hmm," she purred, kneeling between his legs as he continued sitting on the bed. Ludwig, knowing why she was positioned like this, laid back and let her unbutton his pants. Krista smiled seductively and took off his pants slowly. She had a burning hunger to pleasure a strapping man like him; it all started with teasing him in the best way she could.

"You can," he said, assuring her that he would allow her to do things to him. Krista snickered and stood up, causing Ludwig to sit back up in wonder as to what she was going to do next. He watched her as she slowly undid the front zipper on her corset, and she did so in a way an exotic dancer would do-slowly and seductively. Ludwig felt his member grow in his pants as he saw her large breasts burst free from their confines in the corset's cups. She came closer to him and held his face between her bosom. Ludwig moaned and purred as his arms hugged her waist tightly, kissing and trailing his nose lightly over her skin. Krista moaned sinisterly and watched him enjoy himself between her breasts.

"Like it?" she asked with a laugh. Ludwig nodded, beginning to suck on her nipples. She arched her back, allowing his rough fingers to trace the curve in the small of her back. She gasped when Ludwig used all his strength to lift her and spin to have her lay on the bed beneath him. He was so engulfed by carnal desire; he wanted her even though he barely knew her for more than ten minutes. He crashed his lips onto hers, kissing her roughly and sliding his tongue in and out of her mouth briskly.

Krista took off his wife-beater tank top and threw it aside where her corset was, and she ran her hands over his beautifully sculpted body. She sat up and planted wet kisses on his chest, trailing her nose down to his abs, when she grabbed the waist band of his underpants, playing with it to tease him. Ludwig couldn't take the subtle torment, and by the time she had taken them off, she saw his sizable girth and great length, taking it into her mouth afterwards. It felt amazing, and Krista was so hard and fast with her sucking that he could hear slight gagging noises coming from her throat.

"Mein gott," he groaned, clutching her hair and thrusting his cock in and out of her mouth. Krista was perfectly fine with this, and Ludwig enjoyed it to the point where he came into her mouth just when she began sucking his sack. She swallowed every bit of it and smiled up at him. On the bed, she got on all fours with her bottom facing Ludwig.

"Take mine off," she suggested lustfully. "You know you want it, and really badly, too."

"Ooh," he said, holding her ass with enjoyment. "Nice ass."

He ripped her panties off and held the sides of her butt as he ate her out from behind. Krista, placing her hand on her lower back, moaned as his tongue flicked her clit rapidly. He stuck a finger inside of her and searched in vain for her g-spot, and once he found it, Krista's hips bucked and she moaned breathily. Feeling her as wet as she was, Ludwig couldn't take it anymore; he had the urge to bury himself inside of this strange but drop-dead beautiful woman.

"Oh yeah! I'm going to cum!" she shouted, enraptured in the bliss of the moment. Ludwig held his throbbing hard member and held the head just outside of her entrance.

"Ich kann es nicht mehr aushalten! Ich muss in dir jetzt!" Ludwig said, incensed with lust as he thrust inside of her as deep as he could. Strangely, she wasn't really tight, but he loved the hot wetness emanating from her entrance.

"Ah, yeah," Krista moaned, gripping the red satin bedspread as he went in and out of her at a gradually accelerating pace. He held her hips tightly, but she still pushed against him to try controlling how crazy he went inside of her. Ludwig reached under Krista and held both of her breasts with his big, strong hands, fondling them enthusiastically as his member went wild inside her.

"Ja! Ah, ja!" he moaned, enjoying the feeling of her full breasts in his hands. He pulled out and laid on his back, and Krista smiled seductively, and for a split second, he thought he noticed the diabolical red gleam in her dark eyes.

"Hmm," she purred. "I love being on top."

Straddling his hips gently, she took his member and put it up inside her once again and began to bounce on it. Ludwig loved the view he got of her boobs bouncing up and down whenever she did. Her eyes were closed, her swan-like neck was arched back, and her petite, feminine hands rested on Ludwig's god-like chest as she moaned and sighed from the sensation of his head hitting her g-spot repeatedly.

"Oh, yes! It feels so good! Ludwig!" Krista shouted at the top of her lungs. He held onto her butt and started thrusting up into her really hard and fast, causing her to grip the sheets and scream.

"Oh my god! Ludwig! Your cock is so big and feels so good!" Krista shouted ecstatically. "Are all German men like you; big and strapping?"

"Not sure," he groaned, rolling the mysterious beauty on her back. Her leg went up so her ankle was on his shoulder, and he went in at the same pace. It felt amazing, and Ludwig felt super-lucky that Feliciano gave him such a surprise. At the last move, Ludwig bent her legs at her sides, allowing to him to delve as deep as he could into Krista's depths. She arched her neck back and shouted.

"Ludwig! I can't get enough!" she shouted as he buried his face in her neck. Inhaling her fragrance, he could smell an amalgam of ginger, jasmine, and vanilla extracts. He had never been so turned on by a scent.

"I'm going to cum!" Ludwig groaned, savoring his final moments of sexual bliss with this strange beauty.

"Me, too! Cum inside me! I want to feel your semen inside me, Ludwig!" she begged.

Her wish was granted; Krista held his strong muscular body close to her as he dispersed his seed inside her. He arched his neck back and pulled out, laying next to Krista, whose arms were spread out as she breathed heavily. He admired her nudity; there was a curve in all the right places. Her white skin had been smooth and looked so, her waist was very petite an small, and her breasts, his favorite part if her body, were perfectly proportionate to her hips. Ludwig moved closer and caressed her face, trailing his fingers slowly down her neck, breasts, stomach, hips, and thighs. Their eyes met, and Ludwig saw the red glow in hers; had she been the devil in disguise?

"You have beautiful eyes," Krista said with a seemingly normal smile. "They're so blue."

Ludwig thanked her with a gaze, and held her close as they fell asleep on the satin covered bed.


	2. Chapter 1

_KNOCK! KNOCK!_

The sound at the door roused Ludwig from his deep sleep on the sofa. He intended to take a nap and wake up at 5:00 PM, but his slumber ran four hours later. Wiping the sleep out of his eyes, he looked around before getting up, and as he walked toward the doorway, he smoothed out his white dress shirt in case someone important was trying to talk to or visit him. He opened the large, dark wooden door and saw nobody there—taking a step out of the entrance, he poked his head out and looked both ways until a sound caught his attention. He looked down and gasped at the sight of an infant lying in a basket, cooing and whining with its arms flailing about as if it were stretching.

Ludwig's light blue eyes widened—how did this baby get here? Where did it come from? Most of all, whose was it? Intrigued and curious, he bent down and tried to pick up the petite infant, but a piece of paper fell out of the medium-sized blanket it was covered in. He picked up the basket in which it fell back into and brought both that and the baby into his house. Ludwig put the basket on the coffee table and placed the baby back into it, reaching for the phone to dial Feliciano's number. When he answered, Ludwig flinched because Feliciano, his Italian friend and former enemy, screeched happily into the phone—he always enjoyed talking or being with Ludwig, much to his annoyance.

"Hello, Germany! How are you this evening? Guess what? I made a—"

"Italy!" Ludwig boomed in his thick German intonation—he meant business. "Will you please get Japan and come to my house immediately."

"Why? Is something wrong?" he asked in concern, his cute Italian accent prevalent in his speech.

"You'll see when you get here, but it is very important. Please be here in ten minutes sharp!" he ordered, hanging up the phone.

The baby began to whine, catching Ludwig's attention once more. He carefully turned the basket around so that the baby was facing him. Staring into its eyes, he felt a strange affinity with the child, but the reality was that he was too busy with his personal life to even nurture and rear an infant. He knew for a fact that raising a child was a lifelong responsibility, and because he was so intimidating and strict, he didn't feel he was cut out to play the role of a father. The baby's face looked feminine and delicate, and its hair was covered in thin blond wisps. The infant's eyes were bright blue and expressive, but showed hints of longing and abandon. Ludwig tried to smile at the baby to cheer it up, but it started crying.

"Schreien sie nicht. Ich kenne sie verlust ihre eltern, aber die letzte sache, die ich muss damit sie jetzt tun ist schrei," Ludwig told the infant. Intimidating by his deep, manly voice and hard-sounding mother tongue, the baby cried even louder. He held it close and tried shushing it until Japan and Feliciano came, and when they did, Feliciano's eyes lit up at the sight of Ludwig holding a baby.

"Oh, since when did you become a father, Germany?" he asked, smiling at the baby.

"I heard a knock and I opened the door. Then all of a sudden, a baby appears out of nowhere," Ludwig answered, still confused by the incident of the evening. Japan looked on the table and saw the piece of paper that had fallen back into the basket. Picking it up, his eyes met with Ludwig's and turned again toward the folded piece of lined notebook paper.

"There is a note here," he told him. Ludwig, shocked that he had forgotten to read it, snatched it from his hand and let Feliciano hold the baby. As usual he was thrilled—he spoke Italian to it, told it words of endearment and kissed its cheeks and forehead repeatedly in adoration as Ludwig sat down on the sofa and unfolded the paper, reading it silently in his head:

"_Ludwig,_

_If you still live in this house and you see my baby on your doorstep, it is because I feel very unfit to raise her due to life's circumstances. It's a baby girl but she has no name—since you are her father, I am leaving it up to you to name her whatever you want and I'm also trusting you to raise her responsibly, for I am unable to do so. She was born just four days ago on April 27__th__, and because she is a newborn, I suggest you be very careful with her. Parting with my baby girl has been the hardest thing I ever had to do, but I felt I needed to give her up because I felt she would have a much better life with another family. My father and mother have refused to help me, but my mother was there when I gave birth her. I've searched in vain for an orphanage or children's home to send her to—there aren't that many who will accept a child if the parents are not deceased. When I first found out I was pregnant after the night I seduced you and we made love, I intended on aborting it, but I couldn't take my own baby's life—it just didn't feel right. Please, Ludwig; I trust you to raise our child correctly and I know you will. Even though I never talked to you or met you before and after that night, you struck me as responsible and devoted to anything you set yourself to. Best of luck to you and my baby girl for the rest of your lives._

_Sincerely,_

_Krista_

_P.S: Enclosed are her birth certificate and German citizenship papers—she was born in Munich, and she can lawfully live with you._"

In shock, Ludwig looked away from the paper to Japan and Feliciano, who was holding his supposed daughter. His face was stern, but unreadable as far as emotions were concerned. Ludwig was in deep thought—he couldn't believe that Krista got pregnant after their passionate, hot night together in the candle-lit, scarlet-adorned basement of his house. His eyes were fixed on Feliciano, whose eyes looked curious yet pitiful at his German friend.

"What's wrong, Germany?" he asked. Ludwig took a deep breath and closed his eyes to recollect himself before answering.

"I know I shouldn't blame you," he told him, "but that woman you surprised me with that night last year is…the mother of this baby."

Feliciano's eyes widened and he was just as shocked as Ludwig was. Japan walked over to the sofa and sat down with his ally, who had his elbow resting on his lap with his forehead resting on his fist. He looked depressed, but also ashamed—Japan and Feliciano didn't know why he was so ashamed.

"Are you…the father, Germany?" Japan questioned gingerly, as to not rouse Ludwig's anger and frustration.

"Ja," he answered with a grunt. "That…girl seduced me, and he ended up…you know, doing…_that_…and we never spoke after that night."

"Yes, she was molto bella, Germany!" Feliciano said, holding the baby girl close to him. "Why would you blame me for that?"

"Because you were the one who set it up so I could…do that with her and then…oh, mein gott," Ludwig explained, his tone shifting to distress and hopelessness. "I am not father material."

"We could help you raise it, Germany, or if Japan won't, _I_ will!" Feliciano squealed with excitement. The baby girl giggled at his statement. "See! The bambina likes me!"

The baby girl showed off a cheeky smile to Feliciano, who held it in front of him and nuzzled his nose against hers as if she were a baby kitten or puppy. The baby continued to laugh and giggle at the Italian's tomfoolery, but Ludwig stood up and looked at the baby girl.

"Can I…hold my…daughter?" he asked, holding his hands out to gather the infant into his arms. Feliciano looked reluctant to give her back to her father, but he did it anyway out of fear that Ludwig would get angry and therefore frighten the baby to tears. As he held her, he looked into her eyes and saw himself in those bright blue, expressive pools of water on her face. He remembered that Krista's eyes were dark and demonic that seemed to glow red under certain light settings—but their daughter's eyes were that of an infallible angel who was destined to do absolutely no harm on earth.

"If I am…to raise her," Ludwig said, looking at the exquisite face. "I need to name her."

"Ooh! Ooh!" Feliciano said, grabbing his friend's attention. "Something Italian! Something Italian! How about Luciana!? Or even Maria? Salvatora? Annunciata?"

"Stop it!" Japan hissed in his usually shy-sounding voice. "How about Emiko? It means that she is blessed with grace and beauty, Germany. Or something like Mitsuki? Or Motoko? Satomi? Kaori?"

"That's ENOUGH!" Ludwig boomed angrily, ending their bickering. Strangely, the baby girl didn't cry—she just stopped cooing and whining, staring up at him expressionlessly.

"We were only trying to help, Germany! Does Annamaria sound good to you?" Feliciano asked, walking closer to Ludwig to see the baby.

"No, Italy, it is terrible," he answered. "I am Germany, therefore a German, and a _German_ should give their daughter a _German_ name."

The baby fell asleep contently in Ludwig's arms. Her lips went into a little pout and her cheeks looked a bit fuller than when she was awake. He sighed, and made his selection.

"I will name you…Hilda," he finally said, whispering in the baby's ear. "Hilda Beilschmidt."


	3. Chapter 2

The first four years of baby Hilda's life was the central focus of Ludwig's life. Though he had help from Feliciano and Japan with raising her, it was still very difficult to serve in the army and raise his only daughter at the same time. There were times where he had to spend weekends on drills or participating in world affairs, like the annual World Meeting where all of the world's nations, ranging from Axis Powers to Allies and everything in between, met to discuss problems that needed to be solved. This caused problems in Ludwig's own life because he had a little girl to worry about, but he knew that if the world's problems remained unsolved, there would be complete chaos and turmoil. Though he knew it was selfish to put his country before his own daughter, he did it for the sake of fate.

Hilda learned to walk when she was just over a year old, and she said her first words soon after. Feliciano spent a weekend with her while Ludwig was on drill, and he was making her something small to eat. He was singing a song in Italian as he stood and stirred the tomato sauce in the pan on the stove, and the baby waddled in, curious about what she was hearing. The Italian looked at the baby and walked toward her, picking it up as he sat on a chair. Hilda's beautiful blue eyes looked up into Feliciano's amber-brown ones, and her smile was cheeky. From her head, light blond strands had grown out in a color that was the exact same as her father's, and she was wearing a pink, flower-patterned onesie made of a soft, woolen fabric.

"I am making you some pasta with sauce," he whispered to her. "I will cut it up in little pieces for you, though." The baby raised her eyebrows and began to babble nonsense that Feliciano couldn't understand.

"P-pasta!" Hilda said. The Italian's eyes lit up with jovial surprise—her first word was spoken!

"Mamma mia! Your first word! Wait until Germany comes back!" he squealed, kissing the baby's cheeks repeatedly and nuzzling his nose against hers.

That Monday, Ludwig returned home and greeted his baby daughter before even acknowledging Feliciano. Upon entering the door, Hilda was sitting in the living room on the carpet, chewing on a few toys, but when she saw her father, she got up and waddled toward him, but before she could trip at his feet, Ludwig swooped her up and held her close to him.

"Hallo, mein kleiner Liebling. Ich verfehlte Sie soviel. Ich bin traurig, dass ich für so lange weg war," he said, kissing his daughter's cheek. She squealed, but had not said any words since the night Feliciano made her pasta. Ludwig, still holding his daughter, looked at his Italian friend, whose face looked positively expressive—in a way, he was attached to little Hilda, for he was like a second father figure.

"Pasta!" Hilda said, catching Ludwig's attention. Feliciano started to laugh as he went closer to the baby, who was in Ludwig's arms.

"What did mein liebling say?" he asked, bewildered by his daughter's saying—he had expected her first words to be German, not something like 'pasta'.

"She said 'pasta', Germany! It was her first word! She said it on Saturday night because I made her some! You should have heard her through dinner! She was so cute saying it over and over again!" Feliciano said. "Say it again, bambalina!"

"Pa-pasta," Hilda repeated.

Ludwig was shocked, but most of all, he was somewhat angry that her first words were not German. He shook his head in disbelief, and at this point, he knew for sure that it was time for Feliciano to keep his distance from his daughter.

"Italy," Ludwig began with a hestitant sigh. "Do not ever speak Italian in front of my daughter for the rest of her childhood. She'll pick up the wrong mother-tongue and I'll feel like a failure."

"Why, Germany? What's wrong with Italian?" Feliciano asked, slightly offended by his words.

"Please, Italy, it is nothing against Italians or your language," Ludwig said, gesturing him to not mind what he was saying. "I just want my daughter to have German as her first language. If you must speak to her, do so in English, please."

After this incident, neither Feliciano nor Japan was allowed to babysit Hilda, but they could still visit with her and spend time with her. Ludwig's problem of finding a babysitter was solved by the time Hilda was four years old, when he hired a nanny from Berlin to take care of Hilda whenever he couldn't. Also, she cooked and cleaned the house, and Ludwig knew she was perfect because she spoke only German and would do so towards Hilda.

The nanny's name was Elsa, and she was in her late fifties. She had silver-streaked light brown hair, colorless gray eyes, and whenever she smiled, a whole load of wrinkles showed on her face. She was somewhat conservative and tight-lipped, but there were times where she was playful and laughed at Hilda's actions. After all, she was a small child, and a very beautiful one at that.

Hilda's hair, by the age of five, was long enough to reach the middle of her back, but it was always held back in a ponytail with a colorful ribbon tied over the elastic that held the style in place. She was as blond as her father, and she had his clear, light blue eyes. Being a child, she obviously was not as serious and orderly as her father, but she showed a sense of stubbornness that rarely ever showed in a girl as small as she was. She always wore cute dresses, either German-made or imported form other countries, with matching shoes. Her favorite style of shoe was the classic Mary Jane style—she had about twelve different pairs in different colors. Not once during her early childhood did she wear pants or shorts.

The little girl met her Uncle Gilbert (Prussia) for the first time when she was five, but was instantly intimidated by his unique appearance—Prussia had platinum blond hair that was practically white and red-violet eyes that made him look demonic. Ironically, there was something about his strangely-colored eyes that intrigued Hilda as if she were somehow familiar with it. Had she seen another red-eyed person in her lifetime before?

Gilbert often came to Ludwig's house whenever he could so the two could drink, reminisce, and catch up on each other's lives. They were in the dining room with a keg of beer brought up from the basement and they both had big glass mugs they took gulps out of. Curious at first of who the white-haired, red-eyed man was, she walking toward the dining room and stood at the entrance. Wearing her blond hair in a ponytail with a green ribbon and a fringe covering her forehead, a pink and white frilly dress, and knee socks with pink Mary Jane shoes, her adorable appearance instantly caught the attention of her father and uncle.

"Who is that little girl? Wait…is that Hilda?" Gilbert asked. Ludwig took a sip of his beer and sighed, rubbing his eyes roughly in exhaustion.

"Ja, it is," he said, his attention going to his daughter in the doorway. "Go and say hello to your uncle, Hilda."

"Who is he, daddy?" Hilda asked sweetly, pointing at Prussia, who smiled brightly at the charming little girl.

"Come to uncle, Hilda!" Prussia commanded in a cutesy voice, standing up from his chair and extending his arms.

It took a few moments for her to do so, but she was intimidated by his striking, unusual features. She had never seen blond hair look so white in all her life, and his eyes, though familiar, looked like that of a monster's. Hilda shrugged apathetically and approached him slowly, returning his hug as he took her up off her feet and spun her around as if she were his own.

"You are a beautiful little girl, Hilda," Prussia told his niece. "You look just like your father. Not sure about your mother, though." Ludwig's beer almost went down the wrong pipe—he had never mentioned Hilda's mother to her, nor did he want another person doing so. He didn't want to worry the little girl.

"Mommy?" Hilda asked as she was placed back on her feet by her uncle. Her light blue eyes looked over at her father, who had a remorseful look on his face. "Why don't I have—"

"Hilda, why don't you go into the other room? Wait, wasn't Elsa supposed to put you in bed at 8:30?" Ludwig asked, changing the subject nervously. The little girl clasped her hands at her waist and looked at him curiously. Was he hiding something from her?

"Elsa!" Ludwig called out. The woman came into the room and looked down at Hilda, whose expressive eyes studied her as he gripped her hand.

"Ja, Herr Bielschmidt?" she asked primly.

"Senden Sie ihr bitte an das Bett? Sie sollte im Bett über vor einer halben Stunde sein," Ludwig requested, pointing toward the doorway.

"Ja, Herr Bielschmidt," Elsa said, nodding. "Ich versuchte dazu, aber sie wird mir gerade, Herr Bielschmidt nicht zuhören."

Ludwig looked at his daughter, who was still dressed in normal clothes. He stood up and walked over to her, crouching in front of her at eye level. Frustrated enough by Gilbert mentioning the 'm' word not knowing he wasn't supposed to, he was very aggravated and was not in the mood to put up with his daughter's stubborn antics.

"Hilda, gehen Sie in diesem Augenblick ins Bett. Hören Sie Elsa zu, wenn sie Ihnen sagt, etwas zu tun," he said sternly, putting his hands on her shoulders roughly.

"Aber ich—"

"Nein, Hilda! Kommen Sie mit mir in diesem Augenblick! Sie gehen ins Bett, und das ist endgültig!" Elsa ordered forcefully, grabbing Ludwig's daughter by the arm and taking her to her bedroom. Hilda couldn't fight with the nanny, or she'd be slapped in the face or on the bottom.

Gilbert sat back at the table and drank the rest of the beer from his glass while Ludwig stood there, looking at him contemptuously. His brother noticed this, wiping his mouth after finishing his beer, and looked at him strangely.

"Is there something wrong, Germany?" he asked.

"Ja," he blurted. "I never, _ever_ say that word in front of Hilda."

"What word are you talking about?" Gilbert asked, resting his arms on the table.

"The 'm' word, Prussia," Ludwig snapped.

"What? '_Mommy_?'" Gilbert said.

"Not so loud, Prussia. I never say that in front of Hilda because I don't want her to be worried," the German said, gesturing him to keep his voice down.

"Why? She's dead, isn't she?" Gilbert asked sadistically.

"Nein," Ludwig grunted, clutching the handle on his glass. "I don't think she is."

Gilbert's face became an indifferent one as he stood up and walked toward the keg. He tried to get some, but it was empty.

"Germany," he said. "We're out of beer. Can we go into the basement and get some?"

Due to the memories of being with the seductress in the basement, Ludwig almost never went down there. He tried his best to keep his beer upstairs in accessible areas, but because Hilda was a small child and didn't really know better, he didn't want her getting a hold of it. Because of this, he had to store his beer in the basement, but whenever he went down there, it frightened him to know that he and Hilda's mother, whom he didn't really know well, had conceived their daughter. The memories were not all that bad, but he was ashamed that he had given into such forbidden temptations. He sighed and got up slowly, trying to delay his journey to the basement.

"Something wrong?" Gilbert asked.

"I'll tell you in the basement, alright?" Ludwig said as they walked toward the basement door.

As the two went down the stairs, Ludwig felt as though Krista, the mysterious temptress, were down there waiting for him all over again. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, Gilbert walked over to his stacks of kegs and got one, while Ludwig stood reminiscing negatively about the night he had shared with Krista. Overwhelmed by guilty feelings, he took an empty beer bottle from the table that stood near the staircase, and he chucked it at the folded-up bed near the wall.

"VERFLUCHEN SIE, KRISTA!" he shouted angrily with a growl. Gilbert nearly dropped the keg of beer upon seeing the bottle smash against the folded framework of the bed. Ludwig breathed heavily and bumped his back against the staircase, sliding down until he sat on the floor in misery.

"What's wrong with you, brother?" Gilbert asked, putting the keg down and sitting next to him. "And…who is…Krista?"

"DON'T SAY THAT NAME!" Ludwig demanded, shouting at his brother. "I have lived with guilt ever since that baby came on my doorstep! I was not ready to be a father!"

"Hey, calm down, brother," Gilbert said, patting the top of Ludwig's arm. "It's alright. Can you…tell me what happened with this…girl?"

Reluctant but willing, Ludwig took in a deep breath before answering Gilbert. Their eyes met, and he could see that Gilbert was ready to listen to what had happened between him and Krista.

"Krista is Hilda's mother," he began, his eyes shut as his mind played the memories of having sex with her over and over again. "I had come home from a long day of working at my office, and I came home to Italy being in my living room. He told me he had a surprise waiting for me in the basement."

"That's…here?" Gilbert asked.

"Ja, it is. So, I foolishly believed him and came down here. There were candles lit everywhere and the…bed over there," Ludwig explained, pointing at the folded bed frame near the wall at which he threw the bottle. "It was…unfolded, and there she was, laying on her side staring at me."

"Was…she beautiful?" Gilbert asked, paying close attention to his brother.

"Oh, yes she was. Extremely beautiful, but in a demonic sort of way," Ludwig answered with a sigh. "She had bright red hair, and black eyes that seemed to glow red like a devil, and her…boobs were…oh mein gott, they were so…tempting and…really big."

"You must have been a really lucky man," Gilbert joked with a chuckle.

"Don't laugh! Just listen to me, brother," the German ordered sternly. "She seduced me faster than lightning, and even though the sex was great, I wasn't aware of the consequences. Mein gott, I was so naïve."

"But…what about Hilda? You mentioned a baby on your doorstep?" Gilbert asked.

"Ja, Hilda was that baby," Ludwig answered, loosening up his position. "I was napping one night and I heard a knock. I opened the door, and no one was there. It was just a baby in a basket. I took her in the house and called Italy and Japan over. Of course, Italy was all over the baby, and I read the letter that was in the basket, and it told about everything that happened after that night we spent together down here. It also had her birth certificate."

"You didn't speak to her after that night?" Gilbert asked.

"Nein. Not once. She didn't even send me a letter telling me she was pregnant," Ludwig answered. "Please promise me you will not tell anybody, especially Hilda. She'll be so upset."

"When are you going to tell her, brother? You can't hide it from her forever," his brother questioned.

"Not now, that's for sure, and if you say _anything _to my daughter about what I told you, I _will_ kill you. Understood?" Ludwig said. Gilbert nodded, standing up so he and his brother could take the keg and bring it upstairs.


	4. Chapter 3

**Check my profile for a link to my Blogger page where I have put up photos of what Hilda would look like as a baby, child and teenager.**

9 years later…

A lot had happened in the years leading up to Hilda's adolescent life. At the age of six, Ludwig jumpstarted her education at a preschool just before she was accepted into the Benedickt Academy, an elite private school in the heart of Berlin. By the age of eight, Hilda was displaying extraordinary skills that none of her classmates had or thought anybody could have.

Even at such a young age, Hilda scored extremely high on most of her exams and was well-read in classic literature, mythology, and history, but she wasn't the most well-liked in her class. By this time, Ludwig had his own accomplishments, such as climbing the ranks to become the lieutenant of the German military. Now, he was away more than ever because he had to train inferiors in drills and participate in foreign affairs in which the army was involved. Ludwig hated being away from his daughter, but he knew that for the sake of fate, he needed to carry out his duties as a high-ranking military officer.

Also at the age of eight, Hilda was beginning to learn martial arts from Japan; Hilda was his only pupil, and like everything else, she learned quickly and absorbed information like a sponge. From Feliciano, she learned how to cook and paint. Learning to cook was a skill she learned over the years, so that was one thing that took time to fully master in the way she wanted to. Another skill she excelled in particularly was piano—Austria (Roderich) had been her instructor, and accepted an offer Ludwig made with him; for an hour-long piano lesson twice a week, he would pay him 300 Deutsch marks. Roderich thought this was a great way to make extra money, so he took Hilda as his private pupil. By the age of nine, she was playing complex pieces by Mozart and Chopin, which again, never ceased to amaze her school music teacher.

Hilda often spent her lunch break in school sitting alone with her nose in a book as she ate "lady-like" foods packed for her by Elsa from her lunch pail. She was not really the target of direct teasing and taunting, but unbeknownst to her, many girls at school made fun of her because of her braininess. Boys didn't really pay attention to her until she reached a certain age, but they didn't ignore her or make fun of her like the girls did—they just quietly admired how smart Hilda was and sometimes asked her to help them with homework they didn't understand.

Now, Hilda was a girl of fourteen, and by now, most of the skills she had taken up as a child were mastered, and she could fluently speak English, Italian and Japanese aside from German, the language she spoke at home. Turning fourteen also had its benefits for Hilda—she was going to attend her first World Meeting with her father. Ludwig felt she was old enough to know what was going on in the world as they knew it, and he felt it was important for her to know current events.

The World Meeting always took place during the summer, but now, Hilda was sitting  
in her classroom, listening to Frau Aultenbach as she instructed a lesson on Ancient Rome. Like many things, Hilda knew all about Ancient Rome, but it wasn't just from books she learned it from; Ludwig had looked up to Feliciano's grandfather, the Roman Empire, as his personal hero due to the fact that he was the epitome of greatness. As Hilda grew up, Ludwig told her about the Roman Empire whenever he was around.

The young girl studied the outward appearance of Frau Aultenbach, a stern woman of about fifty who had a reputation for keeping her students on their toes. Tests were scheduled for every Friday, and one a week for homework, she would make them write an essay about what they learned in class the day it was assigned. She always wore colors as drab as the student's uniforms, like tan or beige, and her clothing looked rather constricting. Hilda always remembered one key thing about her—the skinny, wooden ruler she often carried to point at the board or to smack unruly students on the hand. Her hair was always piled up in a tight bun and she always stood as though she had a rod for a spine.

"Here, kinder," the teacher said, snapping her ruler against the map that was rolled down to show Europe. "This is where Rome is, and it is also the heart of history's greatest empire." Her eyes turned to Hilda, whose great blue eyes stared at her inquisitively. "Hilda, since you did so well on your essay this week, will you please tell us what you know of the beginnings of Ancient Rome?" Sighing, Hilda stood up from her desk and stood primly, facing the class with masked confidence—in reality, she was really nervous, and always was whenever the teacher made her speak to the class.

"In…in 753 BC, Rome is said to have been founded by twins Romulus and Remus, who were raised by a she-wolf. In approximately 509 BC, the Romans banished the king and made the city a republic, which afterwards they extended military power and conquered most of Europe," Hilda explained, the teacher raising her eyebrows in amazement of her intelligence. "Italy was first unified in 272 BC. Then, the Romans defeated Carthage just after gaining more control over the Mediterranean Sea."

"Ausgezeichnete arbeit, Hilda," Frau Aultenbach said with praise as the young girl sat back in her seat. Hilda felt uneasy when she saw her approach her desk slowly. "Ich wünsche, dass ich mehr Studenten wie Sie, mein Preis-Schüler hatte."

The lesson seemed long and somewhat monotonous, but it kept the gifted student occupied. She had already known about the subject, but she felt it to be mandatory to listen to her teacher. When the bell rang for dismissal, Hilda picked up her schoolbooks, which were buckled together in a leather strap, Frau Aulterbach called her name; she was sitting at her desk with a stack of papers.

"Hilda," she said just before the young girl walked out the door. She walked toward the teacher's desk and looked down at her as she graded papers.

"Ja, Frau Aultenbach?" Hilda asked, holding her strapped books underneath her arm. The teacher put her pen down and clasped her hands together on the desk, looking up into the girl's stunning light blue eyes.

"Hilda Bielschmidt, the only daughter of Leutnant Ludwig Bielschmidt, happens to be the most gifted student I've ever had in my years of teaching," she told her conspiratorially. "I have something I wanted to bring your attention."

"Ja?" Hilda asked, paying close attention to what she had to say.

"I was wondering, Hilda, if…you would be interested in…skipping a grade or two," Frau Aultenbach told her. "I feel you should be challenged, and I think you should continue to develop your numerous skills. Your music teacher says that your fingers glide along the ivories when you play for the class, and your Classic Literature tells me about your seemingly deep understanding of literary terms the other students wouldn't care to know about."

Hilda looked at her, her eyebrows raised in shock. Surely, she was a Jill-of-all-trades, but she didn't feel that she was _that _gifted as to be placed in a grade much higher than her peers.

"Frau, I'm not so sure. This is all so sudden that you are telling me this," Hilda said, walking toward the window as she looked up at the sky. "I know I do well in school, but I don't want to be known as the teacher's pet just because I skipped a grade or two. It…wouldn't be fair for everyone else." The teacher stood up and walked toward her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I will only tell you this because I mean it—you _are_ my favorite student, and even though that seems obvious to most of the people here at BenedicktAcademy, I think it's a good chance I think you should take. Just, think about it and talk to your father, alright?"

Nodding, Hilda walked out of the school, hugging her books close against her chest as the breeze gently blew on her light blond hair that was up in a ponytail. Now that she was older, she wore it down more often, but there were still days she wore a ponytail. It always took her about a half hour to walk home from school, and once she reached her house, she stopped and admired the beauty of the exterior.

Ludwig and his daughter had moved out of their old house soon after his climb up the ranks. Hilda was about eight years old, and she seemed to like this house much better than the small one in which they had lived before. The newer house was made of brick and had a stone walkway, classic-styled windows, and a garden in the backyard which Elsa always maintained. On the weekends, Hilda sometimes bonded with Elsa by helping her work in the garden. When they had first moved in, she had helped Hilda grow a peach tree—unfortunately, it died before winter set in and it didn't bear any fruit at all. The girl walked up the front steps and went through the door, walking up the big staircase to go to her bedroom.

Upon opening the door, she removed her shoes, walked over to her desk and put her schoolbooks down just before she started working on her assignments. As she opened her literature book, she heard a knock. Looking back, it was her father standing in the doorway, fully clad in his military uniform. Hilda's eyes lit up as she jumped from her chair, ran toward him and hugged him like a small child—he had returned from a week-long drill in Leipzig.

"How are you, mein leibling?" Ludwig asked endearingly, hugging his daughter.

"Ich bin so, Danke. Ich sehe Sie zurückgekommen sein," Hilda answered. Ludwig removed his hat and looked down at her.

"Ja, I have. I was so busy. I am so sorry I keep being away like this, Hilda," he told her apologetically. "You know I hate being away from you."

"It's alright, dad," his daughter answered. "I understand. You do it because without you, the world would be in turmoil."

"Ja, that's true. Well, it's the weekend, so do you have any news from school you want me to know about?" he asked, walking over and sitting of her plush bed. Hilda nodded and sat beside her father, looking up at him with her great blue eyes.

"Dad, Frau Aultenbach tells me I should skip a grade or two," she says. Ludwig's eyes widened in amazement—he was already so proud of his daughter; this made him even fuller with pride.

"Wunderbar!" he said, placing an arm around his daughter's shoulder. "That is great! It means I'm doing a good job raising you. You should be advanced a grade up, liebling." Hilda looked at him serenely, but uncertainly—should she take this big step in her education?

"R-really? You think I should be in a higher setting?" she asked. "Not that it's totally bad, but she called me back into her room after class and told me about this. It's all so sudden, dad."

"Ja, it is," Ludwig answered with a sigh. "I think it would be the best option for you. Think about it—you'll be out of school faster, you'll go to college earlier, and you might even make some new friends."

"True," his daughter answered, looking down at her feet which were covered by her white knee-high socks.

"Listen, Italy might be coming over tonight for dinner, so make sure you wash up and look presentable for when he comes, alright?" Ludwig said. Hilda's face lit up—Feliciano was one of the only friends she had, and he was like her second father.

"Really?! He is?! Alright!" she squealed, running over to her desk. "I better get my homework done or else."

Ludwig shook his head, chuckling as he closed the door to his daughter's bedroom. Running his finger across the silver lapel on his uniform hat, he smiled warmly with pride. _I thought being a single father would be hard_, he thought, _but I can see I raised Hilda well. I am so proud of her_.


	5. Chapter 4

"Ciao!" Feliciano said as Hilda opened the door to greet her friend. He was holding a wide, but flatter-than-average box that had a ribbon on it.

"Buona sera!" Hilda responded cheerfully. Ludwig grunted at the sound of his daughter speaking Italian—though he knew a tiny bit himself, he didn't like it when Hilda spoke anything but German.

"Hello, Italy. What is in that box?" the strong German said. Feliciano smiled as he opened the lid. Hilda's face lit up at the sight of homemade pizza.

"Wow! Did you make this yourself?" she asked.

"Si," he answered. Hilda took the box and kissed Feliciano playfully on the cheek in gratitude.

"Grazie, Feli," the young girl said, taking the box to the kitchen. She had not called him by his real name in a long time, and as she entered the kitchen, she saw Elsa making liverwurst and boiling potatoes. Before she could sneak by, Elsa stopped her abruptly.

"Halten!" she said, touching Hilda's shoulder. "Was haben Sie dort? Was ist in diesem Kasten?"

"Unser Freund Feliciano machte uns Pizza. Er ist hier für das Mittagessen," Hilda said sweetly, holding the box up to show her. Elsa's colorless eyes grew contemptuous as she looked at the young girl and then at what she was cooking on the stove.

"Hilda, ich gab mehr als eine Stunde versuchend aus, vollkommene Leberwurst und Kartoffeln für Sie und Ihren Vater zu machen, und Sie bekommen eine Pizza? Sie schätzen es anscheinend nicht," Elsa finally said. Hilda hated it when she took things personally—she decided to do something about it.

"Ja, ich tue, Elsa," Hilda answered, trying to reassure her. "Feliciano versuchte gerade, nett zu sein. Außerdem haben Sie jemals seine Pizza versucht?" Elsa shook her head with frustration and turned off the stove, taking the food out of the pans and arranging it onto a big platter.

"Es ist Hilda egal," Elsa said. Suddenly, Ludwig and Feliciano came into the room, and once they did, Elsa glared at the cheerful Italian.

"Hello, Elsa!" he said, waving at her with a smile. Elsa shook her head, but Hilda took his hand and led him to the dining room.

"Feli," she began. "Elsa doesn't speak any English at all."

"Really? Not a word at all? Why?" Feliciano questioned. "Everyone needs to know English."

"Elsa is…well, she had a _really_ strong German upbringing," Hilda said with a ginger smile. "If I try speaking English to her, it would be totally impossible to get her to reply without using German. Instead, she'll just say things like 'what are you saying?' or that she can't understand me. Sometimes, she will get so frustrated that she'll yell at me and demand that I speak German."

As Feliciano nodded and sat down at the table, Hilda heard Ludwig and Elsa talk in the kitchen, which wasn't that far from the dining room.

"Elsa, don't take it so personally," he said in his mother tongue. "I had no idea that Italy was bringing a pizza over for us."

"Sometimes, I feel my work here is useless," Elsa responded back in the same language. "I spent an hour trying to make liverwurst and potatoes for you and Hilda only for some guinea to bring pizza over."

"You will _not_ use that language in front of anybody again!" Ludwig grunted forcefully. "Italy is my friend, and though he may be a total coward, he still deserves to be treated in a dignified manner. Understand?"

"Ja, Herr Bielschmidt," Elsa answered. "Werden Sie noch essen, was ich kochte?"

"Ja," Ludwig answered. Hilda turned her back around abruptly as her father made his way into the dining room. He sat at the head of the table and looked at his daughter, studying her every feature.

Hilda was a very beautiful girl who, despite that she had a good percentage of her father's looks such as his light blond hair and light blue eyes, somewhat reminded Ludwig of Krista, her biological mother. This was due to the fact that their facial profiles were similar, as were their eye shapes, nose shapes, and mouths. Another striking feature on Hilda was her blossoming buxom frame—Ludwig had the impression that as a grown woman, his daughter's physique would be almost exactly like her mother's, and that her body would be so beautiful that men would chase after her relentlessly.

Life as the father of Hilda became so much harder once she turned eleven years old; with that came all of the processes needed to become a woman. When Hilda's first period came, the first to know was Elsa, who also took the liberty on giving her "the talk". On the day this particular milestone took place, Elsa told Ludwig, who didn't really have much to say about it than the fact that he was proud of his daughter and her successful transitions of growing up. The young girl also had one major problem—she was never able to successfully buy a swimsuit that fit her because of her naturally large breasts. Elsa was always the one who took her clothes shopping twice a year; once in the spring and once before school started to get new uniforms, school supplies, or everyday clothing items. Every swimsuit she tried on, the bottom of her bosom would be exposed indecently, and because of this, Ludwig never allowed her to go to the beach or to a pool out of fear she'd be humiliated or harassed for having such a large bosom. Almost everyday, Elsa would help Hilda wrap a cloth around her breasts tightly to make herself look smaller on the top. Doing so, the young girl felt more comfortable and confident with herself.

Elsa walked into the dining room and put plates full of liverwurst and potatoes in front of the three people. Feliciano smiled down at the food, reminiscing on how he was Ludwig's prisoner at one time and he fed him good food like this. This is of course before they become friends and before Hilda's birth.

"Germany, do you remember feeding me liverwurst and cheeses when you held me prisoner?" Feliciano asked. Hilda almost choked on her food—her father took Feliciano as his prisoner? What was she hearing?

"Dad, you took Feliciano as your prisoner? Why? Tell me what happened!" Hilda begged.

"Nein, Hilda," Ludwig said. "Eat your food."

"Nein, daddy! _Please_ tell me!" she pleaded.

"Alright," he sighed, getting ready to talk. "Ja, Italy was my prisoner. He disguised himself as a tomato fairy inside a crate of tomatoes on the battlefield. Then, I took him as my prisoner, but we became as best of friends as we are now."

"Oh, I see," Hilda said with a nod, staring at Feliciano brightly. "So, you were a fairy?"

"Si, I pretended to be one. Then I found myself begging for my life, but we became good friends. I was taken prisoner by the Allies once, too, and your father helped me get out," the Italian told her.

"World War II has been over for about twelve years now," Hilda reminded them. "It is now 1957, in case you have forgotten."

"I know that, liebling," her father said, closing his eyes. "Times have surely changed. You were two when the Führer killed himself. I never really supported the fact that he wanted to kill so many people for one unreachable goal, but since I was just a grunt, I had to obey him and the Reich. I did a lot of office work, but I must admit that I hated the Führer's plan—it was simply irrational."

"I know," Hilda said.

Later that evening, the three feasted on Feliciano's homemade pizza just before having the dessert Elsa made. She made a butter pound cake that had a cream layer with strawberries and raspberries—this was one of Hilda's favorite dishes. After Feliciano spent a while talking with Ludwig and his daughter, he left and Hilda and her father had the rest of the night alone.


	6. Chapter 5

About two months later, the World Meeting was taking place. It was June, and Elsa was helping both Ludwig and Hilda pack their suitcases for Amsterdam, where the meeting was taking place. Hilda was particularly excited for this because it was her first attendance and it gave her the chance to meet other nations and learn about what has been going on in the world at that time. Because of his natural tendency for organization, Ludwig was in charge of keeping peace at the gathering.

As for Hilda's education, school had let out just a week before, and it was decided by herself, Frau Aultenbach, the headmaster, and Ludwig that she would be advanced a grade higher due to her extreme intelligence. The young girl concluded that it would be a good idea to further develop her skills, but also to take her father's advice.

As Elsa helped Hilda pack the two sturdy leather suitcases that were lying open on her bed, she noticed that the young girl had sat down at her desk and began reading a book. Folding the last article of clothing that Hilda took from her dresser and placing it in the suitcase, Elsa placed her hands on her hips and glared at her as her eyes skimmed every line on the pages of her open book.

"Hilda, wie lange haben Sie gelesen?" the old woman asked. Hilda looked up at her slowly, but winced once she saw her standing in front of her with an angry countenance.

"Nicht lange überhaupt. Ich dachte, dass Sie nicht mehr meiner Hilfe, Elsa nicht brauchen," Hilda said. The old woman took the book from her hands and closed it, packing it in one of her suitcases.

"Ich werde bezahlt, um Ihnen, Hilda zu helfen. Kleinst konnten Sie tun ist helfen mir, Ihnen zu helfen," Elsa said sternly. "Haben Sie sich gereinigt?"

"Ja, Elsa," Hilda said, standing up from her desk.

"Eilen Sie, Ihr Vater sagte uns, unten vor neun Uhr zu sein," Elsa said, closing one suitcase as Hilda handled the other. As they brought Hilda's luggage downstairs, Ludwig, who was dressed in casual business attire with his blond hair slicked back and his glasses framing his light blue eyes, rolled up his sleeve to check his watch. Hearing Hilda and Elsa bring down the suitcases, he looked up and picked up his one bag of luggage that rested on the floor as he waited for them. He looked at Hilda sternly—he had ordered her to bring only one suitcase.

"Hilda," he said. "What did you pack?"

"Things I need for the trip," she answered nonchalantly. "Sometimes, you have to be prepared."

"Prepared? For what?" Ludwig asked.

"Merken Sie sie nicht, weil sie Quatsch spricht," Elsa told him, butting into his conversation—Hilda ignored him, and they made their way to the cab that was parked in front of their house to take them to the ferry on the Elba River.

Once they arrived, Ludwig, Hilda and Elsa got their tickets submitted to a ship employee just before going on board. An usher carried their suitcases on board and escorted them to their room—since they were first-class passengers, the room they were sharing was very lavishly decorated with crimson red wallpaper with floral patterns and dark wood wainscoting. The room was rather capacious and had two large beds with a nightstand that was bolted to the wall between them, a sofa that looked as though it were only there for aesthetic purposes rather than comfort, a large armoire dresser, and a private lavatory. Ludwig looked around and nodded with approval, giving the ushers a tip of 50 Deutsch marks.

"Danke," he said with gratitude.

"Lunch will be served in the dining quarters at noon," the usher said before exiting the room with his co-worker. Ludwig thanked him again as he sat down on the sofa, which was lumpy and hard. Hilda walked toward the large window and placed her palm over it, watching the sad skies move above her as she felt a familiar rocking sensation—the ship had begun to move, and her eyes turned toward the pier, where a few hundred people were waving goodbye to the passengers on board. With a serene look on her face, she waved her hand at the people on the pier, returning the gesture kindly.

The voyage went on overnight, and while Ludwig had his own bed to sleep in, he ordered Hilda to sleep with Elsa in the other bed. Because of her snoring and heavy breathing, the young girl couldn't sleep so well. She snuck out of the bed gingerly and sat on the sofa. Due to the same problem, her father couldn't sleep either, even though he had the other bed all to himself.

"Is her snoring keeping you awake, leibling?" Ludwig whispered loudly, causing Hilda to jump, startled by the fact that he was awake also.

"Ja, dad," she answered. "I suppose she's keeping you up as well." Her father nodded.

She watched him as he pulled the covers off himself and sat on the bed, taking the book of matches that was sitting next to the candle on the nightstand. He struck one and lit the wick, holding the candle's holder as he waved the match to put out the flame. Holding it, he walked over to the sofa Hilda was sitting at and placed it on the table in front of him. His eyes turned to his daughter, and doing so instantly sparked a vivid image of Krista in his mind—Hilda had her nose, eye shape, mouth, and side profile, and the sight was eerily beautiful. The only difference was that after his night with Krista, he passed her off in his mind as a common harlot; their daughter Hilda was the exact opposite—intelligent, dutiful, and kind but stubborn. Ludwig, since last seeing the mother of his child, often wondered where and how she had been doing. It wasn't that he cared for or loved her (because he hadn't known her)—he just wanted to see how she fared as an influence on his parenting. If she had miraculously become the leader of an unknown country, he'd most likely make Hilda strive for that sort of greatness. However, if it was something like being homeless or the single mother of another child, he wouldn't want his daughter to be like that and would want to make her avoid anything that would lead her down that 'bad' path. Ludwig sighed as he looked at Hilda's candlelit exterior.

"I need to tell you something very important, Hilda," he told her gravely. She looked at him nervously in the eye as she spoke.

"Ja, dad? What is it?" Hilda wondered.

"Listen, Elsa and I saw a group of boys staring at you in a certain way at lunch this afternoon," he began. "Did you notice them?"

"Nein," his daughter said. "Why is this important?"

"It's important because I want you to know that boys' minds can be very…I don't know…corrupt. They'll want to use a girl for a certain something. Understand?" he explained further. Hilda raised her eyebrows—had he forgotten to say a few key terms that gave her even the slightest connotation of what he was talking about?

"You mean…they want to kiss me? Use me for sex?" Hilda asked. Ludwig raised his eyebrows in shock at her quick assumptions.

"That is…exactly what I mean, Hilda," Ludwig answered in between a sigh. "I…suppose I should have given you the 'spezielles Gespräch' when the timing was right. I wasn't there to give you the talk properly, though. I was away."

"Nein, dad," Hilda protested calmly. "You didn't need to give me 'the talk'. Elsa was there, and it was a good thing you hired her when I was that young. If I had an actual mother, I believe she would have done the same as Elsa did." Ludwig's eyes widened at the sound of his daughter mentioning her mysterious mother; he continued to listen to what she had to say.

"Dad, I don't know very much about my real mother because you've never told me about her. She could be alive or dead at this very moment and I wouldn't even know about it, but I know that she probably would have loved me and have been proud of me and the things I've accomplished through the years. Dad, the point I want to make is that I am very grateful for you to have raised me from birth and to have Elsa by your side step in and help you with it. Right now may not be the best time to thank you, but I want you to know that everything you've ever done for me is truly appreciated. Danke."

Ludwig smiled warmly at his daughter. He always gave to her despite consequences or the situation, and it was good to know that she showed gratitude for everything. From her education to her everyday life, Ludwig always had to sacrifice something so that his daughter could experience and have only the best things in life. Admittance into the elite BenedicktAcademy in Berlin was extremely hard for most families due to the fact that there was no money or that the candidate was not as intelligent as the ideal student the school was looking for. Tuition per year was very expensive at ten thousand Deutsch marks, but Hilda's amazing intelligence also was a factor in her acceptance into one of the best secondary schools in all of Germany. Hilda found herself hugged by her strong, muscular father in response to her short speech.

"Du bist herzlich willkommen, Hilda," he told her endearingly. "You are my world, leibling, and I would die for you. I may not be around very much to be there for you, but I want you to know that I am and that you can even send me letters when I am away. As for the other matter, I never told you about your mother because I never knew when the right time was to fully explain everything. I...I wouldn't want to upset you by being dishonest. Understand, Hilda?"

"Ja," she said with a hopeful sigh.

"Ja, now try to get some sleep," Ludwig ordered calmly. "I'm going to try to sleep myself, and if I can't, I'm taking a few marks out of Elsa's weekly paycheck."

Giggling at her father's sarcasm, she decided to sleep on the sofa for the rest of the night.


	7. Chapter 6

Two days later, the World Meeting took place at Amsterdam's grand city hall, and once Hilda and her father arrived to the grand event, they were greeted in as much a dignified manner as the other nations were. All cars drove around a large stone fountain, and around the perimeter of this area were crowds of people who had travelled just to watch the important national figures make their grand entrances; the cars stopped at the main entrance, the ground leading to it covered with a royal blue carpet. In their car, Hilda and Ludwig sat in the backseat—Hilda was somewhat frustrated from the time she got up due to Elsa's reluctant behavior.

When she first woke up at 7:00 AM, Elsa was insistent on rushing her to prepare. From this, Hilda's breast binding cloth was hurting her and it was so tight she couldn't breathe normally. Elsa also rushed her to breakfast, which was prepared early in advance by their hotel's room service and also tried to make her wear a hideously bland dress. Hilda, on the other hand, wanted to wear a light blue gingham dress with a belt around the waist and her saddle shoes. Elsa, angry by her "disobedience", let her have her way.

Ludwig looked down at her daughter with subtle pride, and he saw her overwhelming curiosity at being a part of such a major world event. When Hilda looked his way, he saw that her face was flushed as though she had a fever. The cause of this, unbeknownst to him, was the tightness of Hilda's breast binding that was pinned over her bra.

"Leibling," Ludwig said, looking at her with concern. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I feel fine," Hilda answered, her great blue eyes looking at her well-dressed father; he was wearing a dark brown suit with a tie, white dress shirt and oxford shoes.

"Your cheeks look redder than normal. It looks as though you have a fever," he said, putting his hand to her small forehead. Hilda moved away, uncomfortable and confused by his sudden concern for her—he always had concerns about his daughter, but from Hilda's point of view, he never expressed it as much as he did in that moment.

"Dad! Stop! I'm fine, really!" she cried. Ludwig looked at her and shook his head.

"Alright," he said.

The time came for them to step out of the car and be greeted by the cheering crowds full of diversity. The chauffeur got out of the driver's seat and opened the door where Ludwig came out and faced the people, who cheered at his presence. Hilda was escorted out when the chauffeur took her hand and pulled her out as if she were a lady. As the people cheered for her being there, she smiled and began waving as she walked with her father into the grand city hall.

Upon entering, Hilda's curiosity grew—the interior was just as beautiful as it exterior, as it was decorated with luxurious but irreplaceable types of furniture and other goods. Old vases held bouquets of flowers as they stood on pedestals, and when they reached the lodge room, she was stunned to see many other nations standing—some had even brought their children along, and everyone was in this room to have coffee or get refreshments before the meeting began.

At about 11:00 AM, all of the nations were called into the grand hall, where a bunch of desks were set up with name plaques on them, assigning seats to each nation. For any guests, like children, the nations had brought with them, a separate section of chairs were set up for them, but they were expected to remain quiet during the conference no matter what happened. Within a half hour, the hall was packed with people, indicating that the World Meeting was about to begin. The mayor of Amsterdam stood up and went to the podium where the microphone was as everyone clapped.

"Good morning, everybody. As the mayor of Amsterdam, we are pleased and honored to be holding the 1957 World Conference here in the Netherlands. Will German representative, Ludwig Bielschmidt, please come up to the stand?" he announced.

Nodding with pride, Ludwig got up from his seat among his clapping fellow nations and walked toward the podium, clearing his throat before he began talking—Hilda looked at her father as he spoke, as did all the others she was sitting with.

"Good morning, I am Ludwig Bielschmidt, and I have represented Germany at the World Conference since 1941," he began. "Every year, people seem to debate about great topics that have needed to be addressed, and it is with great pleasure that I have been called upon to mediate every debate we will be going over. Everybody will be getting six minutes each for speeches, and there will be no talking or yelling out of turn or going over the time limit. Please raise your hands if you want to say something. Now, let the meeting begin." Hilda looked at her father in shock. _He's using time limits for the World Meeting, too_,she asked herself.

"I have something to address," claimed Alfred Jones, the representative of America. "Russia over there keeps threatening to drop bombs on us over in the states! We're in the middle of an arms race and—"

"You were the ones who had atomic bombs first, you patriotic pea-brain!" Ivan Braginsky, representative of Russia, retorted back coldly. Meanwhile, Ludwig felt himself grow frustrated with the other countries and he smacked his strong hand on the podium angrily just moments later.

"That's enough!" he shouted into the microphone. "Mr. Jones, what do you think you and Mr. Braginsky should do to solve this problem?"

"Disassemble them!" a voice called out. Everyone looked around until they saw a face from the guest seats stand up bravely—it was Hilda.

Ludwig's eyes widened as everyone gasped. He wasn't angry that she interrupted or broke the rules for guests keeping quiet; he was actually surprised—he knew she was very intelligent, but he never knew she was brave enough to stand up and voice her opinion in front of all those people.

"Hey! She's a guest! She's isn't allowed to speak at this meeting!" Arthur Kirkland, embodiment of England, said crudely as he stood up to point at her.

"That is Germany's daughter, you idiot," French representative Francis Bonnefoy said, grabbing the collar of Arthur's shirt and shaking him back and forth.

"Stop it! I don't care who she is, she is still a person and she has a right to speak as do everyone in that guest group over there! If anybody objects to this, you can leave the meeting now!" Ludwig ordered. Everyone looked at him in awe—he ruled everything efficiently with an iron fist, but all attention was diverted toward his daughter, who continued to walk toward the desks. Ludwig nodded at her, giving her his approval to speak; Hilda walked up to the podium and captivated the nations with her charisma and mediation skills which she had inherited from her father.

"Nations here today," she began in the microphone after her father moved to join the mayor of Amsterdam sitting down on the side of the stage. "I may not have any significance in anyone's lives or in the world for that matter, but I know a great deal about what has gone on between countries from what I learned in the past. Mr. Jones and Mr. Braginsky, you should both disassemble your atomic weapons and put your differences to rest. Russia, the Soviet Union I should say, originally vowed to keep communism within Russian lands—why not do that? Why not keep your original goal instead of hating capitalism. You have your beliefs, Americans have theirs, and you should both respect that."

The nations, including Ludwig, looked at Hilda, stunned by her reasoning skills and eloquence as she spoke her words. America and Russia looked at each other and nodded, looking into each other's eyes thoughtfully. Hilda gestured her hand toward France and England, who nearly got into a fistfight just moments before.

"Mr. Bonnefoy and Mr. Kirkland, you should set aside your differences as well. Your countries have been at odds for a long time, but you still managed be partners in both world wars. Why not keep that bond between you two and see where it goes? Do you realize how much good for both of your nations you would be doing?" The two men looked at each other and nodded; soon, everyone began to agree with Hilda's reasoning.

"I may not be some world leader, but know this—it would be so much better for all of us to stop fighting each other and hating each other. Why hate when it can be turned into something better?"

Ludwig's expression went from amazement to a closed smile of pride. He was so proud of her that a tear almost fell from his eye. He never expected for the child that was left on his doorstep all those years ago to be as smart and reasonable as she was. Once she stopped speaking, everyone stood up and clapped for her.

The World Meeting went on for two more hours, and everyone spent the rest of the time talking about their goals for solving problems without fighting. Following this was a luncheon in the lodge room, where the nations sat and socialized over lunch. Ludwig was seated with Roderich, Alfred, Arthur, Kiku, Gilbert, and Feliciano; the Italian, however, was late coming to the table because he was too busy talking with Hilda at the buffet table.

"Mamma mia! My little bambina has really grown up!" he said with a cheerful smile as he referred to her speech. "I hope this Dutch food is good. I remember during the war, England captured me and cooked for me! It was terrible!"

"Ja, well, those days are over," Hilda reminded him sweetly. "Just try it and tell me how it is. I might not even eat."

Feliciano took his fork and gathered some food onto it, taking a bite and nodding slowly as he tasted every morsel. The young girl looked at him, waiting for an answer.

"Is it any good, Feli?" she asked.

"It's alright, but not as good as Italian food. I'll tell you what—next time I visit you and your father, I'll cook you both a nice dinner with homemade bread and everything!" he said excitedly, putting his plate back on the buffet table; Hilda did the same, trusting her friend's advice.

"I'd like that," she told him as they walked to the table her father was sitting at. Ludwig was wiping hid mouth clean once his daughter and friend arrived, and once they did, everyone at the table smiled at Hilda.

"Is this your daughter, Germany?" Francis asked, taking the young girl's hand. She blushed, and the more he stood there holding her hand amorously, the more uncomfortable she felt—she was already very hot due to the fact that her breast binding was pinned too tight and that the summer heat was rising significantly.

"Ja, it is," he answered.

Hilda blushed even more when the Frenchman leaned in to kiss her hand; in a way she was ill at ease because she had hardly known this man and he was so much older than her. He was about forty-one years old, but looked half his age with long blond hair, blue eyes, and stubble growing along his jaw line. Among the other nations that attended the World Meeting, Francis had a flirtatious reputation and was said to fall in love with anything that was beautiful—_anything_.

"Votre fille est si belle," he said to Ludwig, turning his eyes to Hilda just moments later. "How old are you, chérie?"

"I am fourteen. You are French, I presume?" she wondered.

"Oui, and you are a very pretty German girl," he told her. Ludwig looked at Francis and snapped his fingers at him.

"Get away from her if you know what's good for you," he ordered sternly, noticing his flirtations toward his daughter. Hilda leaned in toward her father's ear and whispered.

"He was only trying to compliment me, dad," she told him.

"I know, but don't trust him. He may be charming and romantic, but he's a _teufel_," he whispered back. "Every nation in this room knows it."

Gilbert, who was sitting next to his brother, leaned in toward him as he pulled the napkin from his collar and dabbed it on his closed mouth.

"Hey brother," he said, catching his attention. Ludwig leaned in as he spoke to him.

"What is it?" the German asked.

"You know, there's a Red Light District here in Amsterdam? It's a really awesome place where whores are and you get to—"

"Nein, brother," Ludwig responded, sipping his coffee. "I haven't touched a woman in almost fourteen years, so why should I start now?"

"Come on! You get to torture them any way you want to!" Gilbert said. "Have you brought your handcuffs and riding—"

"Nein!" he hissed, his voice still in a whisper. Gilbert nudged his arm playfully, trying to persuade him.

"You know you want to," he cooed.

"Stop it, Gilbert! Now is not the time to talk about whores and handcuffs," he whispered in response. Ludwig's message to shut up was when Hilda tapped his shoulder lightly. He turned and looked at her—her face looked flushed again.

"Leibling, what's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm going out to get some air, dad," she said. "I'll be back in a little while." The German looked at Feliciano, whose expression was blank in return.

"Italy, Hilda wants some air. Go and be with her to make sure nothing happens," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," he answered, standing up with her to walk toward the entrance to the lodge room.

As they walked in the hallway, Feliciano heard Hilda's slow, unsteady breathing. He looked at her with his amber-brown eyes with curiosity, wondering what was wrong with her. She placed the back of her hand on her forehead as if she were about to faint.

"Are you alright, Hilda? You look very sick," he asked, going behind her to catch her in case she fell.

"I…I…feel…"

Without a complete answer, she fell into Feliciano's delicate arms and he began to cower. She had fainted, and he didn't know what to do. Laying her down gently on the carpeted floor, he ran back into the lodge room frantically.

"Germany! Germany! Germany!" he cried repeatedly as the other nations stared at him. Ludwig looked at him, frightened and worried.

"What's wrong? Tell me!" he begged forcefully. Feliciano took a glass of water from the table and took his hand.

"It's Hilda…she's unconscious! I think she fainted!" he wailed frantically. The room fell quiet as the Italian spoke. Ludwig stood up and rushed for the entrance, shutting the French glass doors as he ran toward his daughter lying on the floor.

"I don't know what happened! I asked if she was alright and then she—"

"Calm down, Italy!" he commanded calmly. "I knew something was wrong with her before we came here. Elsa rushed her this morning and maybe…"

He placed his hand over her forehead—her skin felt very hot and her cheeks were just as flushed as earlier. It was when he heard her irregular breathing that something was wrong.

"Oh…that binding she wears!" he said, unbuttoning the bodice of her dress to reveal the extra-tight breast binding Elsa had pinned to her just hours before. Shaking his head, Ludwig unpinned it and loosened it up; buttoning up her dress before anyone could even notice him doing so.

"Give me that water glass," he ordered, laying the icy cold, wet bottom on his daughter's forehead. Her eyes opened and she inhaled deeply for the first time all day. She was comfortable and felt so much better. Her father looked at her and held her close to him.

"Hilda, mein liebling," he said, the concern still present in his voice. "I knew Elsa rushed you this morning, but I had no idea your binding was too tight. Forgive me." She shook her head, taking a sip of the water from the glass.

"It's alright, dad. I should have told you," she answered.


	8. Chapter 7

Although Hilda and her father planned on doing sight-seeing in Amsterdam during their stay, they ended up leaving the World Meeting at four o'clock that afternoon, and they were tired from the really long day they had. Upon entering the hotel room, Hilda sat on the sofa in the living area as Ludwig searched the suite for Elsa; he was angry that she had done Hilda's breast binding so tightly that the young girl fainted from extreme shortness of breath.

"Elsa! Wo sind Sie?" he called out, taking off his dark brown suit jacket. Elsa, slightly apprehended by his tone of voice, rushed to the living area and stood primly by the doorway leading to the kitchen.

"Ja, Herr Bielschmidt?" she asked.

Ludwig stood up straight and looked into her colorless dark grey eyes. Crossing his arms over his chest in disapproval, she looked up at him, worried about what he would have done.

"Ist etwas falsch, herr?" she asked. Ludwig sighed and looked at her—he tried to control his temper.

"Ja, Elsa. Sie trieben meine Tochter an diesem Morgen und infolge der dichten Schwergängigkeit auf ihrer Brust, sie fiel an der Weltsitzung in Ohnmacht! Was ist los mit Ihnen?" he scolded.

"Ich wollte für sie nicht mich zur Sitzung, Herr Bielschmidt verspäten, und ich band sie nur zusätzlich dicht an, so dass die verdrehten anderen Nationen auf sie lüstern nicht starren würden," Elsa said defensively.

"Ich sorge mich nicht, warum Sie es, Elsa taten. Sie gingen noch voran und taten es. Wenn Sie jemals meine Tochter wieder aus irgendwelchem Grund überhaupt treiben, wird Ihr Gehalt reduziert. Verstehen Sie?" he lectured. Elsa nodded slowly with trepidation, ashamed of herself.

"Es tut mir leid dass, herr," she replied, leaving the room to return to the kitchen.

Hilda leaned against the back of the sofa shortly after removing her black and white saddle shoes. She pushed her blonde fringe aside and rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes with exhaustion. Ludwig joined his daughter just after removing his tie, and he looked at her. Her cheeks still had tints of red present, but she wasn't as flushed as earlier.

"Are you feeling better, leibling?" he asked. Hilda nodded slowly, their identical blue eyes meeting in a friendly stare.

"In a way, I was bit humiliated to faint like that. Feliciano was the only one there, but I bet he made a huge scene about it when he went to get you," the young girl said. "He always does that."

"Ja, he's done that ever since I've known him. He screamed for me and everybody became quiet listening to that fool. But then, my concern grew—I knew something had been wrong with you even before we entered the hall," Ludwig told her. Hilda looked at him and nodded.

"He means well, though, and thanks to you both, my binding isn't so tight," she said, pointing to herself.

At about five, dinner was brought to them in the hotel room. It was the first thing Hilda had eaten since breakfast, since she and Feliciano had agreed not to eat at the luncheon due to the quality of the food. Her hunger was satisfied before she went to bed that evening, but unbeknownst to Hilda and her father, fate was going to change for the both of them.


	9. Chapter 8

The next day, Hilda, Ludwig, Feliciano, Kiku, and Gilbert explored Amsterdam and went sight-seeing. From eleven in the morning to three in the afternoon, Kiku was snapping photographs of the historic scenery, promising to take enough so that everyone had some to remember their trip. Feliciano's frequent sampling of food at street vendors annoyed Ludwig to the point where he scolded him for doing so.

"Italy!" he groaned slowly. "I thought you didn't like Dutch food?"

"What are you talking about? I like all kinds of food. Here," he said, sticking a slice of sausage on a toothpick in his face. "Try some! I bet it's like liverwurst!"

"Get that away from me," Ludwig ordered sharply. Hilda cut in and took the food sample from him.

"I'll try it, Feli," she said, putting it in her mouth. As she chewed, she sucked in her cheeks and contorted her beautiful, angelic face.

"Good, isn't it?" the Italian asked. "I liked it."

"It's alright," she answered kindly. Feliciano and Hilda walked away from the group, and once Ludwig saw the cheerful Italian placed his arm around his daughter, he felt a bit uncomfortable—Feliciano was thirty-five, the same age as he was; he wouldn't be able to handle it if the Italian liked his daughter in a certain way. _No_, he thought, _he's like her second father; it would be messed up if he liked her in that way_.

"See, Germany!? Your daughter likes me! Maybe we'll get married and she'll be Mrs. Feliciano!" he joked happily. As his daughter received this joke well by laughing, Ludwig's eyes widened, and he looked at him apprehensively. Within minutes, Hilda reassured him calmly, patting his shoulder gently.

"It was just a joke, dad. Feli is way too old for me," she told him.

"Good," he told her. "I hope it stays that way." _The last thing I need is for my daughter to be marrying a pussy_, he thought meanly.

Suddenly, a cheering crowd of people caught their attention. Feliciano grabbed Hilda's hand and began running toward it.

"Come on, Hilda! It looks fun! Let's go!" The young girl let out a small scream once she felt herself being pulled by his energetic being.

The two made their way through the crowd, coming up to a man behind a table holding three wooden cups and a ball in front of him. He was apparently Dutch, as proven by his thick accent, but since the two didn't have the correct currency to pay him with in order to play, they just stood by and watched others go. Hilda and Feliciano both predicted what the player was choosing, and Hilda was right almost every time—overall, the people got the wrong cup.

As they were engrossed in gameplay, Hilda got so distracted that she didn't realize that Feliciano and the rest of the group had gone away. One she looked to her side, the Italian wasn't there, so she walked out of and away from the crowd. She grew somewhat scared—her father wasn't around, nor was her Uncle Gilbert, Kiku, or anybody else she had been with. It was even scarier because she had never been in Amsterdam before in her life—she'd be lost so easily. Unbeknownst to her, Ludwig was trying to find her soon after he realized she was gone from sight.

By about six that evening, Hilda felt as though she were walking in circles, searching in vain for her father, Uncle Gilbert, Feliciano or Kiku so she could go with them. Since it was getting dark outside, hope began to fade, but her eyes were caught by red lights flashing and staying constantly on in the part of the city she was approaching. Once she got close, she looked around and was shocked at the sight of scantily clad women standing in display windows, holding seductive poses against the wall. A few walked past her, strutting sexily as they dragged on cigarettes. Hilda was confused—they never had something like this in Germany, and if they did, she had never seen anything like this before in her life. Finally, she let out her fear; she cried for help.

"Help! I'm lost!" she cried.

Suddenly, one of the scantily-clad women came up to her, but she wasn't as intimidating as the others she had seen, who looked at her strangely when she cried out for help—perhaps they didn't know English? Speaking German was fruitless, especially in a foreign city, but this woman seemed to understand her perfectly.

Hilda's eyes widened at her appearance—she was a very beautiful, seemingly youthful woman who had fiery red hair and empty black eyes with a reddish glow. She had naturally large breasts and small waist that was accentuated perfectly by a one-piece halter swimsuit. She was wearing a butter yellow garter belt that held up her black garters and hose, on her feet were really high black heeled pumps. Her hair was cut in a bob and permed, but the one feature that struck Hilda was her eyes—unique as they were, they resembled Uncle Gilbert's red-violet ones.

"Are you alright?" she asked her. "Where are your parents? You're not supposed to be in this part of town." Her tone seemed sensitive and caring, but Hilda answered her.

"I was lost a few hours ago, frau," the young girl replied. The kind hooker looked down at her, noticing her thick German accent lace her English pronunciation.

"Say," the woman began softly. "You look…awfully familiar. What is your name?"

"With all due respect, I would rather not tell you. I don't know you," the girl answered. The hooker nodded, bending down to place her hands on the girl's small shoulders.

"I understand," she said. "But I have to get you back to your parents. What kind of parents allows their kid to be in the Red Light District of this city?"

"I told you," Hilda said. "I was separated from my father and his friends and my friend Feliciano, and—"

"Feliciano?" the woman asked curiously. "I knew a man named Feliciano almost fifteen years ago."

"Will you please help me? I'll even pay you to help me! All I have is Deutsch marks, frau," she said, reaching into the pocket of her skirt and pulling out a few coins. The hooker looked at the girl. _This girl is German, and she is so familiar_, the woman thought, _I had better help her. Who knows where it will lead me?_

"I can't accept money from a child," she told her. "Come with me. Where are you staying at, girl?"

"The hotel is kind of near the city hall," Hilda answered. "The World Meeting took place there, and my father took me because I'm fourteen now and I am old enough to attend such big events."

"The World…what, now?" the woman asked, waving her hand for a taxi cab to come by for she and Hilda.

"The World Meeting. You haven't heard of it?" Hilda asked in shock. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am," the woman answered frankly as she opened the door to let the girl into the back of the taxi—she followed soon after and the cab driver stepped on the gas once she closed the door. "After all, I'm just a prostitute—I'm not as educated as other people."

"What do you mean, frau?" Hilda asked.

"It's a very long story," the hooker told her with a sigh. "You wouldn't understand."

Questions rolled through her head as the cab continued to drive and once it reached the hotel, it stopped, allowing the prostitute and Hilda out. Once the cab drove away, the hooker bent her knees to get a better look at Hilda as she placed her hands on her small shoulders once again.

"Do you know where your hotel suite is?" the woman asked sweetly.

"I don't know, but I know it's on the second floor," she said, feeling that strange connection with her name again.

"I'll come with you," the prostitute offered. "So that your parents know who found you and brought you back."

"Alright," Hilda agreed as they both walked into the hotel lobby. As they walked through the door and toward the front desk, men cat-called in Dutch at the beautiful, scantily-dressed woman, making Hilda somewhat uncomfortable—she couldn't speak Dutch, but by hearing words spoken, it sounded similar to German. The prostitute responded by blowing them a kiss with which they shut up immediately and started blushing and cooing sweet words in their mother tongue.

"Er nu. U hebt zelf opgesloten," the woman muttered. Hilda couldn't understand her, but she went and spoke to the receptionist without the hooker by her side.

"Excuse me?" she asked politely. The lady looked at her with a gentle smile.

"How can I help you? Are you lost?" she asked. Hilda shook her head.

"I was lost, but now I've been found," the young girl replied. "Will you please call up to Ludwig Bielschmidt—I am his daughter."

The prostitute's dark eyes widened at the sound of the name coming from Hilda's mouth. Slowly, she turned around and stared at the young girl, studying every feature for any familiarity. When she was nineteen years old, she had given birth to a baby girl who was christened shortly after birth, but due to problems of her own, she felt unfit to raise her baby daughter. Instead of raising her under unstable conditions, she dressed the baby girl warmly and put her in a basket, travelling to Berlin in order to drop her off at the home of her real father. The name of the person Hilda had mentioned to the lady at the front desk made her wonder and question herself.

"Yes," the receptionist said. Curiously, the hooker walked over to Hilda, looking down into her eyes.

"Do you…only have a father, girl?" she asked, slowly and inquisitively.

"Ja," Hilda answered. "He raised me from birth, and I have had a nanny since I was five."

"Wait," the hooker began again. "How old are you, again?"

"I'm…fourteen," the young girl said. "Is this an interrogation?"

"No," the prostitute laughed. "But, you're fourteen—you don't need a nanny."

"Well, now she's more of a maid, and she's like my mother," Hilda said as they were escorted up to she and her father's hotel suite by the concierge. "Besides, someone needs to be there when my father is away."

"You've…never had a mother, girl?" the woman asked, her curiosity growing by the second—this young girl was so mysterious.

"No," Hilda sighed. "I don't even know if she is still alive. I've never met her, and my father never mentions her. It seems like a big secret for some reason."

Intrigued, the prostitute and Hilda were in front of the door to the suite she, her father and Elsa were staying in. The young girl knocked, and it opened to Ludwig, standing there in shock of who his daughter was with. At once, he took Hilda in a strong, but tight embrace to show that he had missed her.

"Mein Gott, wo waren Sie? Sie hatten mich sorgte sich krank!" Ludwig said, closing his arms around her small body.

"It wasn't my fault, dad! Honestly! Feliciano left me alone. We were watching a cup and ball game earlier today but we didn't have enough money to play ourselves so we watched then all of a sudden, he left me and I was walking around in circles for hours until she...brought me back."

As Hilda directed her bodily movements toward the prostitute that had returned her back, Ludwig's eyes widened in shock at the sight. Everything about her from her fiery red locks to her demonic black eyes that had a reddish tint, from her naturally large breasts to her seductive allure, he knew this woman. Inside, he began to grow uncomfortable—he knew this day had to come whether he liked it or not. He knew he had to confess one thing to his daughter. _It's Krista_, he thought.

Meanwhile, the hooker looked at the tall, strong German and instantly recognized him. From the looks of it, he hadn't changed at all—his blond hair was always slicked back, and his clear light blue eyes stared at her with awe. His strong, broad shoulders were accentuated by his white dress shirt, and she could only recall very well what was underneath—she knew this man. Noticing their moment of staring at each other, Hilda looked at the both of them with confusion.

"What's going on here?" she asked. The hooker looked at her father and pointed subtly.

"You're…Ludwig?" she asked. "It's been…so long."

"Krista," he whispered. Hilda's confusion grew—the more they marveled each other, the more frustrated she got that no one was telling her anything.

"What…where is…our…daughter? I…left her…with you…all those years ago," the woman said, worried that he may have given her up. Ludwig placed a hand on Hilda's shoulder—she looked at the hooker strangely.

"She's…right here in front of you, Krista," he said kindly. Hilda couldn't believe her ears—what was her father talking about?

"Dad! Please! Tell me what the heck is going on!" his daughter asked, her temper starting to flare. Ludwig sighed and looked down into his daughter's identical light blue eyes. He was ready to tell her something he had waited so long for.

"Hilda," he began calmly with hesitation. "She is…your mother."


	10. Chapter 9

Hilda's light blue eyes were fixed on her father, but she showed no emotion whatsoever. Inside, she could feel her heart racing uncontrollably and she was extremely confused. She couldn't believe her ears—how could she have run into her 'mother' by chance when she was lost? Was he joking with her?

"Are you…joking with me, dad?" she asked, still in shock about what she heard.

"No, Hilda," he answered solemnly. "I am serious. When have you ever known me to be a fool?"

Still bewildered by the events of the evening, she looked up at Krista, whose great dark eyes were welling with tears. The young girl compared her own image to that of the prostitute's—Hilda was pure and dressed respectably, whereas Krista dressed scantily with halter tops, short skirts, dresses, and, like tonight, a swimsuit with a garter belt around her waist holding up her stockings. Hilda's physical appearance was angelic, with her clear light blue eyes, blonde hair and delicate face; Krista's face had the same type of serenity, but with her fiery red tresses and black, demonic eyes, she looked every bit the sexual demon she was. Deep down, Krista had a good heart and was sensitive—that was about as angelic as she'd ever get.

"You…you're my baby girl," the woman cried happily, taking her into her arms. Hilda didn't return the hug; in fact, she was skeptical and suspicious.

"Let go of me!" the little girl demanded, her temper beginning to flare again as she struggled her way out of the whore's arms. Ludwig looked at her and wanted nothing more than to slap her for being so disrespectful—but he couldn't hit his daughter; he expected this reaction when the day came for her to find out more about her mother. Krista began to cry, but it wasn't because her daughter rejected her maternal love; it was because of the young girl's suspicion.

"You could be some stranger off the street!" Hilda told Krista firmly. "In fact, that's just what you are!"

"Hilda! Watch how you speak to her!" Ludwig scolded angrily.

"Nein!" Hilda screeched. "Why didn't you tell me my mother was a _Schlampe_."

"Hey! Take that back, young lady!" Ludwig argued.

"Please, Ludwig! It's alright! I know I'm a whore—that's how I've made money since I gave her up to you," Krista said, touching Ludwig's shoulder. Luckily, the door to the suite had been closed, and had it been open, neighboring hotel guests would have been curious about what they were yelling about. Ludwig looked at Krista blankly.

"You've…been a prostitute?" he asked. "All these years? Mein gott! You didn't even have the heart to tell me you were pregnant when you found out?"

"What?" Hilda exclaimed. "You didn't see her when I was born?"

"Nein, Hilda," Ludwig sighed with aggravation.

"You weren't married?" the young girl asked.

"Nein," her father said.

"Mein gott! I'm a bastard child!" Hilda cried, tears beginning to stream down her face. Ludwig held her close to him as she began sobbing from the overload of extreme emotions. He picked her up and sat on the couch with her, letting her cry on his shoulder. He usually was not a very sensitive man, but since his daughter was reacting to a delicate issue, he knew he had to be there for her in an emotional sense.

"Nicht schreien. Das, ist Hilda ganz richtig. Das ist ganz richtig," he said softly, trying to console her. He rubbed her blonde head until she let go of him, wiping her eyes and looking at Krista, who had sat down next to her and her father on the sofa.

"Prove it," the young girl muttered and she sniffled.

"What did you say?" Krista asked.

"Prove you are my mother," Hilda repeated in a calmer, kinder tone of voice.

"How?" she asked, desperate to show her proof that she was her real mother.

"When was I born? The day, month and year?" Hilda asked, looking up into her satanic black eyes. She knew her own birthday, as did Ludwig—they both listened to see if she got it correct.

"April 27th, 1943," Krista sighed, Hilda and Ludwig were stunned that she answered correctly. Hilda went on to ask more questions that she knew the answer to in order to test her.

"Where was I born?" she asked.

"Munich," Krista said. "That's in Germany."

"Hmm, interesting, considering you are Dutch and you live in Amsterdam," Hilda sneered, thinking she was lying. However, she did answer with her correct birthplace.

"I went to Germany because I had a promising future, girl," the woman told her honestly. "I was going to attend the University of Cologne, but when I found out I was pregnant with you in my womb, they rejected me and my parents back here in the Netherlands were angry with me and didn't want me to come back. I realized that to stay in Germany for a while was logical because I didn't have the money to go back to my country."

Hilda looked at her expressionlessly, blinking her eyes to fully process what she was saying. Ludwig listened closely as well, for he knew that to know about Krista's past was important since he had known nothing about her the night she seduced him.

"You…were going to college in Germany?" Hilda asked with wonder. "What about my father? How did you meet him?"

"That is a long story, girl," Krista told her daughter. "Let me tell you a shortened version of it—one of your father's friends was also friends with me at one point in time, and I was feeling…wild…one night, so I helped him set up the basement of his house in Berlin and I waited for him until he came home, and once I set eyes on your father, I thought he was extremely handsome. Then, we…you know…made love." Hilda listened attentively; she understood her, but there was something missing.

"One more thing," she told the woman. "Do you have photos of me as a baby?"

Nodding, she reached into her plain leather purse and unzipped a pocket on the inside, pulling out a photograph of a newborn baby girl and showing the young girl. Like many of the photos within the large photo album her father had owned back in Germany, this photo was black and white, and it portrayed a newborn Hilda sleeping comfortably in a bassinet. On her head were light blond wisps and her face was slightly pudgy as she slept peacefully. Hilda smiled at the photo, knowing that it was the exact same girl as in her father's personal photo album of photos from before she was born and of Hilda during the different phases of her life.

"I thought I'd never see you again, my baby girl," Krista said, gently stroking her daughter's face—Hilda's eyes were fixed on hers, but she felt no emotions; in fact, she was amazed.

"Look at you," Krista continued, marvelling at her daughter's beauty. "You look like your father; the color of your eyes, your hair, but you have my nose and my mouth. You are beautiful."

Hilda looked up at her, and smiled warmly at her, but it was closed smile that showed she was content and calm. When Krista took her in another embrace, the young girl returned it in kind, feeling her maternal love shine into her. The woman began to cry tears of joy as her hand travelled to her daughter's head, holding her close to her.

"I am so sorry I wasn't there for you, my girl," the woman told her as she cried. "I gave you over to your father because I knew I wouldn't have given you a good life. I bet Ludwig raised you well."

Taking this compliment, the German remained silent, but treasured looking at Krista and their daughter bonding over a hug. What was once missing was now there again; Krista had stayed with them for an additional hour, but once Hilda went to bed, she was happy to know the mystery of her mother.


	11. Chapter 10

The next day was Hilda and her father's last day in Amsterdam, and during his daughter's first meeting with her mother the night before, Krista had proposed that she and Ludwig go for tea together. The German highly preferred beer over tea, but since she wanted to have tea, he had no choice but to make her happy. Ludwig only wanted to have an outing with her because he wanted to tell her about Hilda's life from the moment he picked her up from the basket on his doorstep and declared her his very own. Also, he thought it would be nice to know more about Krista if she had brought up anything pertaining to only herself.

Ludwig left the hotel with both Hilda and Elsa that morning—the young girl and her nanny-maid were going to take a stroll around the city with Feliciano, and Elsa went along with them to obey Ludwig's order for her to watch Feliciano in case he got distracted by food vendors or something else that would have easily caught his eye. Meanwhile, Ludwig sat at one of the outdoor tables of a small café to wait for Krista. His wait was not very lengthy, and before he knew it, the German heard high heels clicking against the ground—she had come.

He gasped subtly as his eyes widened at the sight of her dressed like a normal woman. She wasn't scantily clad, but on her was a light blue cotton dress with short sleeves and a full skirt that reached her knees. White pumps complimented the soft hue of the fabric of her dress, and around her neck was a string of pearls. Though she was dressed in an unusually modest manner, Ludwig thought she looked beautiful—the light blue of her dress perfectly complimented her fiery bob, her eyes didn't have the devilish red tint visible, and even though she had no breast cleavage showing, their size showed prominently through her dress. _Mein gott_, he thought, _Hilda has the same bust size as her mother_.

"Krista," Ludwig said, getting up from his seat to greet her. She smiled a closed one at him and batted her eyelashes.

"Hello, Ludwig. I'm here," she told him. The two sat at the table Ludwig had picked, and then a waiter gave them both menus to look over in case they decided to order anything more than just tea. After his eyes studied the list of beverages for a moment, he looked over at Krista, who kept on looking at the menu. _Who ever knew that my daughter would run into her mother by chance_, he asked himself, continuing to admire the mother of his child_, look at her, she's so beautiful. I like her better dressed like this—it shows she has some respect for herself_.

Suddenly, their eyes met, and Ludwig began to lean back on his chair. Krista smiled in a seductive fashion as she looked into his light blue eyes—she had never forgotten him because he was the best lover she had ever had in her entire life.

"Ludwig," she began calmly. "I have never forgotten about you."

"Huh? Really?" he asked, wondering what she was going to say next.

"Yes, I haven't. They say a woman always gets attached to at least one of her lovers," Krista said. "Even though I have worked as a prostitute for quite a long time now, I still have feelings. It may not seem that way, but it's true. I'm only human." Ludwig looked at her, putting his menu down as he stared deeply into her great dark eyes.

"Ja?" he wondered. His voice was breathy but curious; he was eager about what she had to tell him.

"You were…the best lover I ever had," Krista admitted with a sigh. "Sure, I have about three or four men a day who pay me to have sex with them; but you, Ludwig, were my best. I was eighteen when we…did _that_, and you were my third man."

"Your _third_?" he asked, deeply interested in what she was saying.

"Yes, you were. I remember it well," Krista said with an honest nod. "I was seventeen when I lost my virtue, but then I realized I should have waited. That was one my biggest regrets, but I surely don't regret having a child that I had to give up. I can see you have raised her well, Ludwig. Thank you."

Ludwig looked at this woman with awe—now, he could fully see inside of her heart that she a true, genuine woman. She was honest, but he knew she could have improved her life by quitting her job and moving to Germany to be around whenever Hilda needed her. However, he knew it would be too late to do so because he had raised their daughter well enough without her.

"Don't thank me," he told her. "I was just doing my very best with raising her. Honestly, at 21 years old, the thought of raising a child was beyond me—I was not ready to have children and I wouldn't think that our…night together…would lead to me being a single father for fourteen years. At first it was hard enough with Italy helping—"

"Feliciano Vargas?" Krista asked, her eyes widening. "I knew him!"

"Ja, he is like her second father; but, there came a point where I couldn't have him watch her anymore while I was away because I feared she would retain Italian culture and adopt it as her own," Ludwig explained. "I was so angry when I came home after a weekend on drill. Italy was babysitting the baby and then out of nowhere, she says 'pasta'. It was her first word, and I was angry that her first words were not German."

"Aww!" Krista said, clapping her hands with joy at the thought of her baby's first words. "Pasta! That sounds so cute!"

"Huh," he scoffed. "Cute." His tone was sarcastic, but then it was normal again. "When she turned five, I hired a nanny. Her name is Elsa, and she still works with our family. She grew up with a strong German upbringing, and she doesn't speak anything but German. I wanted that because I wanted Hilda, our daughter, to pick up German as her mother tongue."

"Wait," Krista said as the waiter took their menus away and served them tea and biscuits. "Hilda?"

"Ja," Ludwig answered, sipping his tea gingerly so he wouldn't get burned. "The night I picked her up from the basket on my doorstep, I called Italy and Japan over, and they suggested horrible, non-German names for her. I chose Hilda—that is our daughter's name."

"Full name?" she asked.

"Hilda Bielschmidt," he told her. She nodded with approval. "What is your last name, Krista?" She sipped her tea and placed the porcelain cup back on the saucer carefully.

"My real name isn't even Krista, Ludwig," she confessed. Ludwig looked at her with his eyebrows pulled together.

"Really?" he asked.

"Krista is, in fact, a nickname my family called me by as a child. My real name is Kristanna Faulkener." Ludwig's facial expression softened upon hearing her real name.

"That last name sounds German to me. Are you sure you are Dutch?" he questioned.

"Yes, both of my parents have Dutch blood. My mother had pure Dutch blood, but my father is mixed with Danish and English. The name 'Faulkener' is actually an English last name," she explained. "My great-grandfather was an English savant named Edgar H. Faulkener. He attended OxfordUniversity and became a doctor who also researched medicine. My father always told me how much of a smart man he was."

"It's no wonder Hilda is so smart," Ludwig said, taking a bite of his biscuit.

"What did you say?" she questioned, sipping her tea again.

"Hilda is a very well-read girl, Krista," he repeated.

"Oh?"

"Ja, she is. In fact, she was playing Mozart on the piano by nine years old, she took martial arts lessons from Japan, and when she was eight years old, she was accepted into the BenedicktAcademy in Berlin," he explained. "It is one of the best schools in all of Germany, and I am so proud of her. Her teachers all prize her above everyone else, and I always seem to find her nose in a book. She…doesn't really have friends at school—in fact, she is shy most of the time except for when she wants to speak her mind." Krista's eyes widened, happy to hear that her daughter had been raised even better than she would have if she had kept her. She kept on listening.

"Her teacher, in fact, proposed the idea that she should skip a grade and challenge herself. I told her that it would be a good thing for her to do, so she made the choice and she is," he explained. "The one thing she did recently that really made me proud was at the World Meeting, which is why we came here."

"Oh…the girl told me about that when I first saw her and I was bringing her back to you. What is it?" Krista asked, sipping her tea before taking a dainty bite of her biscuit.

"The World Meeting is a big conference where most of the world's nations meet to discuss issues that need to be resolved. I have represented Germany since 1941, but I always end up running the meeting because people tend to argue unreasonably," Ludwig said with irritation. "Luckily, our daughter was there to help matters."

"What did she do?" the woman asked, leaning in to hear more.

"When the representatives of Russia and America were fighting and arguing, I screamed at them to stop, and then I asked if they had any way to solve their differences. I hear her response out of the clear blue and she comes up to the podium and starts talking as if she were me! Best of all, she helped them solve their problems," Ludwig continued. Krista's great dark eyes widened, and she ruffled her cherry red short perm. Her back went straighter as she sipped her tea, and her sizeable bosom became even more noticeable—Ludwig couldn't keep his eyes off her. He didn't love her, but he felt a strange affinity with her, and he knew that this was only because she was the mother of his daughter.

"I remember the night she was born," Krista said after a moment of mutual silence. Her voice sounded calm, which made Ludwig curious.

"Not to pry, but will you please tell me how it was before you left Hilda on my doorstep?" he asked in his manly, German voice. Krista sighed and looked into her teacup, admiring her reflection. The eyes in her reflection met her real ones as she sighed again.

"It was a spring night in 1943…April 27th," she began.


	12. Chapter 11

This is a flashback chapter…just a heads-up so there's no confusion! It is in third-person in order to make the entire story seem in sync. This is a flashback. Enjoy!

"Push, woman!" the doctor said as his hands were at the end of Krista's entrance. The young woman had just gone into labor and was in agonizing pain, screaming as her mother dabbed a cool, damp cloth on her forehead. Krista's mother had come all the way from Amsterdam to Munich for the baby's birth, and the young pregnant woman had stayed in Germany until she could get enough money to go back to the Netherlands. At nineteen, she had gone to Germany for an educational opportunity at the University of Cologne, and while there, she had seduced a young, strapping German man—he happened to impregnate her, and it was especially hard since they hadn't talked since the night they spent together. Angry with his "whore" of a daughter, Krista's father had disowned her and completely ignored the fact that he was going to be a grandfather. Out of concern for her daughter, Annelies, Krista's mother, had travelled so far just to see her grandchild being born and have a chance to hold the baby. The doctor delivering the baby was German, and tried his best to speak English even if it was broken.

"I cannot see anything," he told her calmly. "You need to push more."

"Kristanna, luisteren naar wat de dokter zegt. Moet u om te ademen," Annelies whispered in her daughter's ear. She wailed in pain for a few moments before answering.

"Ik kan niet! Ik kan niet! Het doet pijn te veel!" Krista screamed, arching her neck back as she tried to breathe deeply. Tears streamed down her face as she felt tearing inside of her. For about three days, she had been having contractions, all of which were the cause of her fear of the baby coming. Her pregnancy was not shorter than normal, in fact it was as normal as anyone else's.

"I am beginning to see its head," the doctor said. "Please, Kristanna. Push harder!"  
"How can I push harder if you are telling me to relax? I cannot do both!" the young woman answered before whimpering from the pains of labor.

"Calm down, Krista," Annelies said. "I went through the same thing to have you and your brother." She wiped her daughter's sweaty forehead as she continued to push and breathe—it was a seemingly nonstop pattern of both actions.

"Just a few more pushes," the doctor told her. "You are doing fine."

"Het pijn doet!" Krista screamed, arching her back as her final push expelled the infant from her body—as she breathed heavily, the newborn started to cry squeakily as the doctor held its small but extremely slippery body. At once he checked its gender, and looked at the baby's mother, who was crying from the excruciating pain.

"What is it, doctor?" Annelies asked excitedly.

"It is a girl," he answered. "She needs to be cut from her umbilical cord and washed up first." The woman, with the damp cloth in her hand, reached for the water bowl that was on her bedside and dipped her hand into it, wringing it out with her fist before washing the tears from her daughter's face.

"Hoorde je dat Kristanna? Het is een meisje kind," Annelies said. Taking a few more breaths, Krista finally calmed down, overjoyed by the news of her baby's birth. Just moments later, the doctor came back with the baby wrapped up in a clean white blanket and handed it to Krista.

When she first saw her baby girl, tears of joy welled in her empty black eyes as she admired every exquisite feature—her baby daughter definitely resembled Ludwig with light blonde wisps on her head and clear light blue eyes. However, her facial features were that of her mother's—her eye shape, her nose, and her mouth. Krista's index finger stroked her baby's cheek and the baby smiled cheekily.

"She is beautiful," the young woman said, looking down into her beautiful blue eyes.

"Aw, look!" Annelies cooed. "She has your eyes, your nose, and your mouth. She'll look just like you. I wonder where she got her blond hair from." Krista sighed, reluctant to answer; she still did, though, just to be honest with her mother. Krista had known that on both sides of her family, there was dark or red hair with blue or dark eyes—her eyes, however, were black with a distinct devilish red glow, a trait never seen on anybody in their family.

"I never told _vader_, but just before going to college in Cologne, I spent the night with a German," Krista admitted, looking down at her daughter's fair features. "He is why I got pregnant."

"Wat? Deze baby is een half Duits?" Annelies asked in shock. "How come I never knew?"

"Because _vader _was too busy trying to disown me," Krista said. "One of my friends is Italian and he brought me to…the baby's father's house in Berlin as a surprise for him. Of course, I felt very…wild and loose."

"Ik begrijp niet hoe u zijn gerezen in een katholieke huishouden maar handeling als een totale hoer, Kristanna," her mother said.

"Shh!" Krista ordered. "Not in front of my baby, please!" Annelies forgot about what she said and looked at the baby, speaking Dutch to her and holding her small, smooth hand. Krista's eyes welled with tears once more, but it wasn't due to happiness—due to life's circumstances, she couldn't raise her. Financially, she was unstable, and she didn't work a steady job. She went around cleaning people's houses, but people could not afford to pay her more than 10 Deutsch marks for her service. Even money like that was not enough to pay for college or a place to stay, so she just stayed in a shelter. Things turned for the worst when the University of Cologne rejected Krista admission just because she was pregnant.

The next three days were devoted to finding a suitable home for her baby, an orphanage or children's home. She had not given it a name, for if it were to be adopted by a family, it would give them more freedom to name her themselves. However, most of the orphanages and children's homes she came across would only accept children if their parents were deceased.

"But please," Krista had begged repeatedly. "I cannot raise my daughter and I don't know where else to go. Please, take her!"

"I am sorry, but since you are a living parent of this baby girl, we cannot take her," many of the caretakers had said. "We only take the children of deceased parents."

Desperate and at a loss, Krista knew that the only place the baby truly belonged was in the strong arms of her father. Luckily, she had remembered where he lived and travelled to Berlin. There, she had checked into a hotel shortly before preparing a basket for the baby girl to lie in. She wrote a lengthy note and put it within the blanket she had wrapped the baby in.

When she finally reached Ludwig's house, she placed the baby in front of his door on the porch, looking down at it one last time. She stroked her sleeping face and sighed.

"Goodbye," she whispered softly as she walked off into the night.


	13. Chapter 12

Ludwig looked at Krista with shock after she had finished telling her story. Judging by all of the hardships she had gone through during and shortly after her pregnancy, he finally understood that Krista probably wanted to raise their daughter but couldn't due to those specific circumstances she had mentioned. Thinking back in his own mind, Ludwig knew that if he was aware of her pregnancy in its earliest stages, he would have married her—not out of love, but for the sake of Hilda being a legitimate child and that they could have _both_ been in her life.

"Mein gott," he muttered under his breath. The woman put down her tea cup and looked at him curiously.

"Ludwig?" she said in response to his seemingly wordless mutter. He looked at her sternly, but he had no intention on being mean.

"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" he asked. "The least you could have done was sending me a letter."

"I didn't think you would care enough, Ludwig," Krista admitted. "I know I looked nothing like a German when I was being sent to the University of Cologne, but they rejected me anyways because of my pregnancy. I was going to abort it as soon as I found out, but I realized that wouldn't be such a good thing to do. I am very sorry, Ludwig. You are right, I should have told you."

"If it were not illegal at that time to marry a non-German woman, I would have married you just for the sake of our daughter," Ludwig added. Krista looked into his eyes, secretly overjoyed at the thought of being a wife. It is what she had always wanted despite that she worked in a brothel.

"You…you would have?" she asked. Ludwig nodded, keeping his eyes on hers.

"Ja," he answered. "But since you work in a brothel, I could never marry you now. Besides, Hilda turned out to be a perfectly normal and wonderful child without a mother in her life." Krista felt somewhat hurt at this statement, but in a way it was true.

"Oh," she answered. "You wouldn't be caught dead with a whore as your wife."

"It isn't that," Ludwig lied; his voice sounded nervous. "It's just…well, I never had a girlfriend or a wife for all of Hilda's childhood. It's strange; something told me to wait for you and the day I would see you again."

Their eyes met again, but before Krista could answer, they heard running footsteps coming toward them. Ludwig and Krista were already more than halfway done with their tea and biscuits as they saw Feliciano, Hilda and Elsa standing there, but with them was a young man no older than eighteen who looked strangely familiar. He was particularly handsome, but Ludwig could easily tell he was not German; the young man had dark brown hair and honey brown eyes, and on the side of his hair was a small, but noticeable curl that resembled Feliciano's. He looked over at his daughter and suddenly noticed that her fingers were interlocked with his and that between their hands was a white rose. Inside, he felt an angry fire burning—he wasn't ready to let his daughter go.

"Oh, hey! Germany!" Feliciano said with a cheerful wave. His eyes turned to Krista; it had been so long since he had seen her. "Oh, Kristanna! You're here, too! Wow, you are all one big happy—"

"Please, Italy!" Ludwig said, rubbing his forehead roughly. "I'm getting a headache."

"Hello, Feli," Krista greeted kindly.

"Ciao!" he told her with a cutesy smile. "Long time no see!" Ludwig looked over at his daughter again, feeling uncomfortable with her holding hands with the mysteriously handsome young man. Feliciano's jovial tone of voice caught his attention again, distracting him from the sight of his daughter holding hands with a boy.

"This is my nephew, Emilio," he told Ludwig and Krista. The German raised his eyebrows, but kept a straight face; Krista was smiling at her daughter.

"Romano has a son?" he asked.

"Yes, Romano is my father," Emilio said. Ludwig gasped quietly in shock as Hilda leaned her head on his shoulder—he was a bit taller than her, but they looked like a cute couple (at least to Feliciano). He was clearly an Italian, and his accent was thick—Ludwig was in shock over the idea that Hilda could have been in love with a non-German. Ludwig grew more curious as Emilio looked down into Hilda's eyes, admiring the clear blue waters in her soul.

"Sei bellissima, Hilda. Vuoi andare un ristorante tardi?" he asked in an amorous voice. Hilda smiled up at him as he kissed her cheek softly—Ludwig's discomfort grew.

"Oggi é il mio giorno ultimo in Amsterdam," Hilda answered.

"Per piacere," Emilio pleaded. "Per piacere visiti Italia cosí posso vedere ti." Hilda looked up into his eyes and let go of his hand, holding the white rose firmly.

"Proverò. Dipende se mio padre mi permette o non," she answered back.

At an instant Ludwig jumped up from his seat and came between his daughter and Emilio. He grabbed his daughter's free hand and pulled her away rudely without saying goodbye. Krista, curious about why he was so forceful with Hilda, got up and followed him just before he came out of view. Hilda finally broke free of her father's firm grip, and once she looked up into his identical light blue eyes, she got scared—she knew how he was when he was angry. He never ceased to intimidate someone even if he was in a perfectly good mood; his appearance really scared people to the point where they would feel nervous inside.

"Vati! Was tun Sie?" the young girl asked as she forced her arm out of his clutch. He looked angrier by the minute, which intimidated her so much to the point she'd cry in front of everybody there.

"You don't know him! Hilda, what have I told you about boys?!" he snapped.

"Emilio is nice, dad!" she argued. "If you don't like him, that's _your_ problem!"

"Erheben Sie Ihre Stimme zu mir nicht jemals! Ich—"

"Ludwig! Please!" Krista interjected imploringly. For the first time since knowing her, Hilda ran away from her father and held her mother at the waist, crying as she rested her head against her large, concealed bosom. Krista placed her arms lovingly around her daughter, looking up at Ludwig afterwards.

"Ludwig! Why did you—"

"That Italian was flirting with her!" he grunted, noticing the white rose she had dropped on the ground. He picked it up, but crushed the flourished bud into his tight fist. "Ich werde es nicht haben!"

"Please!" Krista pleaded once more. "_You_ should talk!"

"You seduced me, you whore!" Ludwig shouted. Passersby stopped and watched the two adults' verbal fight. Krista's eyes widened at the German's cruel statement. It was true, but she took offense to it. She let her daughter go; Hilda ran back to where Elsa, Feliciano and Emilio stood and held Feliciano, crying into his shirt because she was afraid of her father. Once she got close enough, she wacked her hand against his cheek so hard his upper body moved away from her. When she saw him stroke the cheek she had slapped, Krista was scared as well and she ran away from him before he could hurt her in front of everyone. She knew Ludwig was the kind of man to hurt someone physically if they had hurt him first, and the thought of him beating her was beyond her comprehension. Once she had got away to join her daughter with Elsa and the two Italians, Ludwig was breathing heavily with intense anger—he had such a strong urge to chase after her until she stopped so he could hit her back. However, it would have been stupid to make such a spectacle of himself that he just took a few deep breaths and rethought his actions. He even knew that he had provoked her to slap him by rudely calling her a whore in front of everybody. Shaking his head, he walked back to the hotel that he, his daughter and Elsa were staying at, waiting for them to return.


	14. Chapter 13

"Krista," Hilda said, wiping her eyes. "Where is my father?"

"I don't know, girl," she answered worriedly. Unbeknownst to them, Ludwig had gone back to the hotel to blow off steam rather than chasing Krista to get physical revenge on her. After a few minutes, she concluded that he would have hit her by then, so she assumed he had just gone somewhere to cool down the flames of his temper.

"Hilda," Emilio said, walking up to her and holding her hand briskly. "Tell me."

"Tell you _what_?" she asked.

"Is that your father?" he asked.

"Ja."

"Then why was he so angry?" he questioned. Hilda was reluctant to answer, but her hesitation ended with a sigh.

"He…thinks I am in love with you, and that you are with me," she admitted.

His grip softened on her hand as he pulled her along with him. They walked to a more private area where they could be alone. They stopped once they were in the middle of an alleyway, and Emilio's beautiful honey brown eyes stared deeply into Hilda's blue ones; he smiled contently.

"What is wrong with me being in love with you?" he asked.

"I don't see anything wrong with it," Hilda said.

"But why does your father seem to hate me?" he questioned.

"I am unsure," she told him.

Emilio cupped her delicate face in his hand, looking into her eyes and admiring their great size, then he went on to admire her small mouth, her narrow nose, and her smooth fair skin. Since her hair was down he played with one of her loose blonde tresses as he gazed into her clear blue eyes. To him, she was simply an angel—she was different from most German girls he had heard about or seen; she had a very gentle demeanor, but if you got her angry, that was the end of it.

"Sei la prima ragazza tedesca chi non ha intimidito mi," Emilio said with a giggle.

"Pensi tutte le ragazze tedesche sono intimidatorie?" Hilda asked with an eyebrow raised.

"No," he said. "I'm not trying to stereotype you, Hilda. My Uncle Feliciano told me that German women are terrifying."

"Non sono piena di tedesca. Sono solo metá," she responded, trying to clear his mind of any misconceptions. "Mia madre é olandese, e lei era la donna hai visto con i capelli rosso e occhi neri."

"Parli bouno italiano per una ragazza tedesca," Emilio answered with a warm, closed smile. "Sei bella e sono innamorato con te." His hand was stroking her cheek gently, and she smiled warmly as she closed her eyes, appreciating his touch. She had never been treated so well by a boy before.

"Emilio, abbiamo appena conosciuto oggi. Stai dicendo la verità?" Hilda asked.

She gasped once he got down on one knee and held her hands. He rested his cheek against them as if he were Romeo and she Juliet. When he planted a big kiss on the tops of her hands, Hilda blushed until her cheeks were as red as a strawberry.

"Si, sto. Sei una angela di cielo," he said, his heart blinded by sincere feelings and irrationality. Once he got back to his feet, he looked down into her eyes again.

"I tuoi occhi azzurri belli ipnotizzano mi, e i toui capelli sono d'oro. Sei molto bella, Hilda. Non mi importa dove sei, perché te amo."

Without warning he crashed his lips onto hers, moving his hands from her face to her small waist. Hilda's eyes widened, but then they closed when she realized that his kissing was amazing. She was always told by Feliciano that Italian men, in particular, were passionate and insanely amorous. She was so engulfed with a new kind of desire that she just kissed him wholeheartedly in return. As he held her tightly, her naturally large breasts, even though they were in the binding, pressed against his hard chest as her hand rested on his shoulders. He broke the kiss and smiled down at her. _He's so handsome_, she thought.

"It was your first kiss, wasn't it?" Emilio asked. Hilda blushed and nodded slowly with an embarrassed smile on her face. He leaned down and rubbed his nose against hers gently before their lips met again. Holding her firmly at the waist, he picked her up and spun around during their kiss. The full skirt on Hilda's brown dress blew gracefully in the summer breeze until she was back on her feet again. Once Emilio broke the kiss, she smiled up at him.

"Ich liebe dich," she answered, her heart fluttering in her chest. Emilio didn't know what she meant but he planted a quick kiss on her cheek and held both of her hands endearingly. Little did they know that both Krista and Elsa were watching them show affection to each other; Krista was so happy, but she couldn't believe how fast her daughter had grown up. Elsa on the other hand, looked at the scene in disgust—she wasn't used to Hilda being this way, but because she was a young woman, she had decided not to tell Ludwig about what she was seeing.

"Aw, look! Her first kiss!" Hilda's mother said quietly with rejoice.

"Sprechen Sie bitte Deutsch. Ich kann nicht Sie verstehen," Elsa pleaded with irritation.

"What?" Krista asked. The moment Elsa looked at her with her colorless gray eyes was when she knew not to speak to her anymore.

Late that night, Ludwig was sitting on the sofa reading a book he had brought with him on the trip. Hilda and Elsa were already asleep and had been for the past hour. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and on impulse, Ludwig marked his place in the book, closed it and walked toward the door. _Who could that be at this time of night_, he asked himself as he opened the door slowly. It was Krista, whose expression looked scared and nervous. Ludwig had been very angry with her for slapping him in public, but now, he didn't know what to feel.

"Krista," he said after a moment of awkward silence. "Is…everything alright?"

"Yes, I suppose," she answered. "I…came to apologize for…slapping you."

"Please," Ludwig began. "I…deserved it. I was very disrespectful to you. I'm sorry as well. I called you a whore in front of everyone."

"Shh," she said, placing her index finger gently to his lips. "It's alright. I accept your apology." Ludwig looked at her—she was still dressed respectably in her sky blue dress with a full skirt with white heels and a string of pearls around her swan-like neck. However, her black, demonic eyes told him she had lacked energy at that moment; she looked so tired.

"Come in," he ordered. Krista nodded and stepped into their hotel suite and sat down on the sofa. Ludwig joined her just after shutting the door, but rather than picking his book up to continue where he left off, he stared amorously at Krista.

Even though it had been fourteen years since he had first seen her, Krista still managed to retain her youthful beauty. During their outing that morning, he had noticed that Hilda had shared a lot of traits with her mother, from her small nose, her mouth, and her eye size. However, Hilda lacked Krista's thin, swan-like neck; she had a rather normal-looking one oddly enough.

"What have you been doing since…our argument?" the German asked, still keeping his eyes on her.

"Nothing, really," she answered with a sigh.

"Oh," he said with one of his manly-sounding groans of contentment. It was just then that he moved closer to her and held Krista in his arms. She was confused, but satisfied—why was he acting so strangely?

"Ludwig!" she said, letting out a small, scream-like moan.

"Krista, you don't know how long I have waited to have you in my arms again," he said with fire in his voice. She looked at him and finally returned his embrace. Secretly, the feeling of his strong arms around her made her feel safe and secure—that was even more valuable than the money she was paid by strangers to have sex with them.

"Ludwig," she began breathily, feeling crushed by his masculine dominance even though it was just an embrace. "I don't understand."

"Please, Krista," he told her. "Ich liebe dich. Ich kann nicht meine Gefühle mehr zurückhalten. Seit dieser Nacht habe ich auf Sie gewartet, um in mein Leben zurückzukommen. Hilda ist gerade ein Stück von Ihnen, aber wirklich, ich will Sie beide in meinem Leben."

Though she couldn't understand German very well, she tried to interpret what he was saying in her own language, or at least English. Once she made a guess as to what he was saying, she finally said something.

"You…you love me?" she asked. Ludwig nodded, his heart full of genuine feelings he rarely ever felt. It was strange considering he was not a very sensitive man.

"Ja," he told her, loosening his arms around her so their lips could meet in a kiss. Krista broke the kiss and looked up into his clear light blue eyes and sighed.

"I…I love you, too," she told him. "You know, since meeting my daughter for the first time in many years, I've thought about quitting at the brothel. I know you have done a good job raising her without me, but I realized it's never too late to make up for the time you haven't been in your child's life."

"Come to Germany with me," he pleaded. "Please, be there for Hilda as she becomes a woman."

"I'm not a very good example, Ludwig," she reminded him.

"No, but you are still her mother, and I would love it if you came back to Germany with me. I love you," he repeated, burying his face in the crook of her thin, graceful neck. Krista arched her head back, allowing him to kiss and suck on her neck, and while he did it, she moaned softly. Ludwig felt himself grow harder from hearing her soft, delicate moans—it only prompted him to undo the buttons on the back of her dress. Krista felt a draft come through the gaps left by her unbuttoned back and gasped as their lips met tenderly. Ludwig broke the kiss and looked into her eyes lustfully. He wanted her, and he was determined to get her.

"I want you tonight, Krista," he said, holding her close to him.

"Please," she began. "I need you, too."


	15. Chapter 14

**WARNING:** If you hate smut, don't read this chapter. Otherwise, enjoy!

Ludwig leaned down and picked Krista up from the couch bridal-style and carried her to the master bedroom. Once they had gone in and the door was shut, Krista helped Ludwig undress himself until there was nothing more than his underpants on him. Her familiar, feather-light touch played games with his head as her tiny, elegant hands caressed his perfectly chiseled, god-like body. After planting a few quick kisses on his shoulders and the top of his chest, Ludwig crashed his lips onto hers as he forcefully removed her blue dress, flinging it on the floor shortly before he picked her up and carried her to the bed. He held her legs around his waist, and once Krista laid her back down on the bed, Ludwig played with her garters as he kissed her with fiery passion.

Krista moaned and sighed as he trailed his nose down her neck and reached her large, cupped breasts. He reached to find the clasp on her back and he unfastened it, throwing the confines aside as her breasts sprung out of the bra. Krista, in attempts to tease him, covered her fullness with her hands, but it didn't work on him for long. Ludwig caressed them with his big strong hands just after Krista spread her arms out on the bed, and before long, he pushed them together and began to kiss, suck and lick them fervently.

"Ludwig!" she moaned. He stopped and looked down into her eyes—the satanic red color became prominent as she was being aroused. Remembering the first night they had spent together all those years ago, Ludwig loved her breasts—like, _really_ loved them; what he liked most about them was that they were naturally so perfect in size and shape.

"I missed this," Ludwig said as he placed his mouth over once of her nipples. The feeling of his suction and him flicking his tongue made her moan even more as she arched her back significantly.

"Oh, Ludwig!" she sighed. Her sighs began to sound more like a sacred chant of his name—she was the temple, and he worshipped every bit of her. "I missed this, too!"

His lips trailed up to her mouth, where they kissed. Fires were burning in their loins, and their hearts were beating love-filled blood throughout their bodies. After leaving wet, ardent kisses on her stomach and hips, he finally removed her garters, stockings, and panties, and even though Krista was much more vulnerable, she did not even bother shying from him—they had done this before.

"Mein gott," Ludwig said, admiring her perfect, feminine form. "You are still so beautiful." She smiled just before he crashed his lips onto hers once more just before he began kissing her inner thighs gently as he caressed them.

"Ludwig, you are such a tease," Krista told him under heavy moans. She gasped once she felt his warm, moist breath on her womanhood, and when he began to lick her, it was all over—Krista was unable to control herself.

"Ludwig! Oh, Ludwig!" she shouted as his tongue traced across the folds of her soaked femininity. He spread her open and began sucking on her clit gently as his finger teased the outer portion of her entrance. Once her hips started to buck and move out of control, Ludwig's large hands held them so that he could please her steadily. Krista gripped the bedspread tightly and she felt her toes begin to curl from the intense pleasure she was receiving. Then, without warning, he slid a finger inside of her and gently went in and out, stroking her swollen upper wall.

"Je mijn adem weg te nemen!" she shouted, holding her breasts as he continued to pleasure her. He took his tongue away from her divinity and put two fingers inside of her, stroking her swollen wall. Krista was on the edge now, and she started shouting really loudly.

"I can't take it anymore! I need you inside me!" she begged. "Please! I need you now! I'm going to die!"

Ludwig removed his underpants and threw them aside with all of their other clothes laying the on the floor, and Krista saw that his member was still as big as she had first seen it, but this time is was throbbing like crazy as it anticipated her hot, wet liquid heat. He went on top of her, holding the tip of his member to her entrance, rubbing up and down to tease her even more.

"What are you—"

"Beg," Ludwig ordered.

"Please, Ludwig," she said, doing what he said.

"Please _what_, Krista?" he asked with a snicker.

"I want you inside me! Please!" she pleaded desperately. He was really driving her wild now; his tip was soaked with her juices as he stared at her, waiting for the correct response as he continued rubbing up against her.

"Nein," he said playfully.

"Stop it, Ludwig!" Krista commanded. It was to no avail—the more she begged, the more he would tell her no.

"Nein," he repeated.

"Oh my God, Ludwig! Please! I want it so badly!" she pleaded. "Don't make me roll you on your back!"

"Heilig scheisse," Ludwig groaned as he continued rubbing the tip of his member against her wet, slick folds. "I'm getting even hornier every time you beg the wrong way."

"Please!" she begged. "Fuck me, Ludwig!" He smiled and nodded slowly.

"Oh, ja," he said, thrusting into her slowly.

"Oh, yes!" Krista said, satisfied that she had gotten her way.

Ludwig leaned down and kissed her as he thrusted in and out of her. Krista kissed him wholeheartedly as she snaked her arms around his neck and held him close to her. Her legs bent upwards, allowing him to go deeper inside of her as he picked up the pace.

"Oh, Ludwig! Oh yes! Oh my…oh!" Krista moaned, enraptured by the bliss of the moment. She really had missed this, even though they had only done it once before; nevertheless she had missed the sensation of Ludwig's great girth and size going in and out of her. He had a firm grip on her hips, and when both of theirs bucked together, Ludwig realized he was hitting her g-spot, which triggered Krista to dig her nails into his flawless, muscular back.

"Ludwig! Oh my God! I can't get enough of you!" she screamed in ecstasy. "I can't get enough!"

"Me neither! Oh, mein gott!" he answered, groaning from the pleasure. He got out of Krista's embrace and wrapped her legs around his waist as he enjoyed the view from being on top of her. Her boobs bounced as he thrusted into her, and he noticed Krista hold her breasts to prevent this. Ludwig forcefully took both of her wrists and pinned them above her on the bed, looking down into her eyes as he went harder.

"Don't hide yourself," he told her. "You're beautiful."

He pressed his lips to hers, impassioned by infinite amounts of lust; he didn't want this night with Krista to end, but in his mind, he loved her and he knew that if she had decided to come to Germany with he and their daughter, she would live under the same roof with him and they would make love very frequently. Therefore, there would be many more nights like this one.

"Ludwig! It's amazing! I love you!" she shouted.

"I love you, too!" he told her with emphasis. "I'm going to cum."

"I am, too! Cum inside of me!" Krista begged.

Shaking his head as she came, Ludwig pulled out and sprayed her torso with his semen. He had to stroke himself to fully bring himself to cum on her, and once he finished, Krista smudged some of it on her finger and tasted it. Licking her lips afterwards, she smiled at the strapping German.

"Tastes good," she said, wiping all of his loveseed off her torso.

Within a few minutes they were laying underneath the covers together. Ludwig held Krista close to him, and they engaged in quiet conversation. Now, the lamps were turned off and though she wasn't afraid of the dark, he held onto her lover tightly.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," Krista answered. "You asked me to come to Germany with you?"

"Ja?"

"Well, I think I should. I have been looking to improve my life for a long time," Krista answered.

"That is _wunderbar_," Ludwig answered, looking down at his lover's shadow. The scent of her hair was somewhat unique—it was an amalgam of jasmine, vanilla, and cigarettes. She had to have smoked before arriving at his suite, but since Ludwig himself occasionally smoked, the scent turned him on even more.

"Are you in the Army, Ludwig?" she asked.

"Ja," he answered. "I am lieutenant."

"How long have you served?" Krista asked, getting up to look down at his chiseled face and disheveled hair.

"Since I was 18 years old," he answered. "1940."

There was an awkward moment of silence following his statement. Krista began to cuddle with him again, holding him tightly as her fingertips traced over his warm skin. She sighed breathily.

"That was amazing," she told him.

"I know," he told her in response. "But…isn't it always? For you, I mean?"

"Well, no, not as a prostitute," she admitted. "Some of the men that have paid me were too rough and hurt me. Ludwig, you are the only man I've ever been with who has been really good."

"You think I'm good?" he asked with disbelief.

"Yes, I do," she answered.

"I don't have a lot of experience with women," Ludwig said honestly. "In fact, for all of Hilda's childhood, I stayed single. I had better things to worry about than meeting a new woman."

"I see what you mean. I would have done the same," Krista said. "If I had raised her, she wouldn't have turned out to be the good young lady she is. I want to thank you for taking her when I couldn't. It really means a lot to me." Ludwig looked at her shadow and sighed.

"You know, for many years, I have doubted my abilities as a father. I was away a lot, but I still managed to be around Hilda long enough for her to know I was there for her," Ludwig told her. "A few years after she was born, I have to be honest and say that I was mad at you for bringing her to me. Now, I am perfectly happy that I am a father." Krista looked up at his shadow and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm happy you were honest with me," she told him. "Maybe it is meant to be like this?"

"Ja," he told her.

The two fell asleep within twenty minutes, but Ludwig knew that the memory of this night would remain in his head forever.


	16. Chapter 15

Krista had still been wrapped in Ludwig's strong arms during the very early morning hours. She had not slept for more than a half hour, for desire was still within her heart. Everything they had done that night brought back pleasant memories, but now that she was going to Germany with him, she had many more days and nights to look forward to with him. However, the thing that excited her most was being able to spend precious time with Hilda; since she had been gone for most of her life at that moment, it meant a lot to her that she was finally being able to be there for her when needed. _If he ever proposes marriage_, Krista thought as she got out of Ludwig's arms and pulled the sheets over her large breasts contemplatively, _I will be so happy_.

Just before the sun dawned, Elsa had come into the room and woke up Ludwig, warning him that he was supposed to wake up early to catch the ferry boat that would take them along the ElbaRiver back to Germany. Once her colorless gray eyes noticed Krista in the bed with him, she gasped so loudly it woke the both of them up.

"Herr Bielschmidt! Es tut mir leid, dass ich Sie aufweckte, aber wir dieses Fährschiff oder fangen müssen," she said, getting new clothes out of the suitcase for Ludwig before packing everything else of his up. She looked back and watched Ludwig as the covers fell down his muscular, god-like chest—for a very conservative woman, she found herself amazed that even a man at thirty-five had such handsome features.

"Mein gott," she whispered. Ludwig's eyes looked at her strangely.

"Entschuldigen Sie mich?" he wondered.

"Es ist kein Problem überhaupt," she replied abruptly, looking over at the woman who was lying by his side. She, too, was nude, but Elsa also knew that she was nothing more than a prostitute. Suddenly, she realized it was Krista, but when she got out of the bed without any clothes whatsoever, Elsa gasped and got a bit frustrated.

"Kleiden Sie sich in diesem Augenblick! Ich werde nicht in Anwesenheit von der Erregung öffentlichen Ärgernisses sein!" she said angrily, pointing her long, wrinkled finger at the fiery redhead. At once, she grabbed her bra and panties from the floor and put them on, but Ludwig defended her.

"Elsa, bitte. Sprechen Sie mit ihr nicht, weil sie Sie nicht verstehen kann," he told her.

"Ist nicht sie nahm an, zum Bordell zurückzugehen?" she asked, closing up Ludwig's suitcase and standing primly, watching him observantly.

"Elsa, sie geht zu keinem Bordell zurück. Sie kommt nach Deutschland mit uns zurück," Ludwig answered, covering his private area with the sheets as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Elsa's face grew taut upon hearing him tell her he was bringing a whore back to Germany with him. To Ludwig, she wasn't just a whore—she was his love and the mother of Hilda, and he felt it was only right to have her live with them. He felt that the odds of he and Krista getting married were very slim, but it would be possible if they were living under the same roof.

Hilda had also just woken up and was already dressed and ready to go. Today, she was wearing something much fancier than her normally bland clothing that was often picked for her by Elsa—a cotton dress that was the same color as orange sherbet that had a little frill on the neckline and hem of the skirt. Her light blonde hair was up in a ponytail and tied with an orange ribbon to match her outfit. Elsa came out with Ludwig's suitcase and saw Hilda and the way she was dressed. She gasped in shock—she looked very beautiful, but because it wasn't a simple color, she was not pleased.

"Hilda," she said, putting the closed suitcase down on the wooden floor. "Sie werden zu fantasievoll angekleidet. Warum trugen Sie nicht, was ich für Sie wählte?"

"Ich wollte meine Ausrüstung wählen," the young girl answered, twirling to show her maid-nanny how pretty she truly looked.

"Sie sehen schön aus, aber Sie sollten nicht so protzig sein," Elsa said, crossing her thin, frail arms over her chest with disapproval. Inside, Hilda felt herself grow aggravated with this old-fashioned woman.

"Elsa, ich bin nicht protzig. Ich trage Kleidung, die ebenso normal ist wie jedermanns," she answered, placing her hands on her hips as she kept her eyes on her. Suddenly, the door to the master bedroom opened, and out came Krista and Ludwig, giggling in a flirtatious manner. They were fully clothed and looked into each other's eyes lovingly—Hilda noticed this and grew anxious.

"Guten tag, vati," the young girl said. Krista smiled at her daughter and walked over, admiring what she was wearing.

"You look so beautiful!" she squealed. "Twirl for me, Hilda."

"Nein," the young girl protested playfully.

"Let's not twirl," Ludwig told them. "It's time to say goodbye to Amsterdam."

"Ludwig," Krista said, walking back to him. "What about my clothes? I have tons of—"

"Krista, it's alright," Ludwig said, placing his hands on her shoulders as he kissed her cheek. "You can go shopping once you are settled in Germany." Hilda's eyes widened at her father—what did he just say?

"What?" she asked with confusion, walking toward her father. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Ludwig said. "Krista is coming to live with us in Germany." The young girl shook her head in protest.

"Nein," she said, apprehended by the thought. "It can't be! She works as a whore here in Amsterdam! How can she—"

"_Don't_ call your mother a whore," he snapped, speaking slowly with hate in his voice. Hilda sighed and looked at Krista, who took a few steps toward her and looked down into her great blue eyes as she spoke.

"Hilda," she began softly, taking her daughter's hands. "For so long, I've wanted to improve my life, and moving to Germany to live with you and your father is a huge step for me. I'm so happy I am making a fresh start with you."

"Why would you care so much about me, Krista?" the young girl asked, looking at her strangely. "You abandoned me as a baby and you weren't there. You may be my biological mother, but I really wouldn't feel any different if you came to live with us or not."

"Hilda, I love you, and you are my daughter. Do you realize how hard it was for me to hand you over to your father? I _wanted_ to raise you, but I couldn't. I was not cut out for motherhood. Now that I have met you both once again, I'm going to seize the opportunity to be there for you for the rest of my life. Do you understand me?" Krista explained, hoping she would be reassured by Hilda's acceptance. She looked down, but followed her father, who opened the door to their suite. _I guess I have to live with this just for now_, Hilda said to herself.


	17. Chapter 16

The first few weeks of Krista living with Hilda and her father in Berlin were somewhat tiring, especially since they had many preparations to help her settle in. During her first Saturday back in Germany, Ludwig had given Krista and his daughter a good sum of Deutsch marks so they could go clothes shopping together. To Hilda, this was a rare treat because it was usually Elsa who almost always bought her clothes for her. One of the first things Krista had done was go with Hilda into her bedroom, and once she saw the elaborate décor and furniture, the woman further believed that she was treated and raised well by her father. The event that led them to go shopping for new clothes was when Krista walked into Hilda's room one morning, where she saw Elsa standing near her bed with a laundry basket, folding her clothes in a neat fashion. Confused as to why they were so bland and tasteless, Krista stepped up to the plate and tried communicating with Elsa.

"Excuse me?" she asked. "Why are all of my daughter's clothes so plain?" Elsa looked at her, putting one of Hilda's black pencil dresses on the bed. The old woman's colorless eyes pierced Krista's with no comprehension of her English.

"Sprechen Sie bitte Deutsch," she demanded in her usual, shrill voice that sounded hard when she spoke.

"I am sorry," Krista said, keeping her friendly tone. "I can't understand you. Will you please speak English?"

"Lernen Sie Deutsch, bevor Sie mit mir sprechen," Elsa demanded. Unbeknownst to Krista, Hilda was leaning against the doorway, staring at her mother from behind.

"She cannot speak English, Krista," she told her. Startled, the woman turned around and placed a hand to her chest as she sighed in relief. She walked over and hugged her daughter, looking down at her plain beige dress. It had a pencil skirt and a tie-around belt that went through loopholes with pockets on the breasts. It buttoned down, but to Krista, it was unusual how she had dressed like someone lower than her on the social class scale. Being a lieutenant, Ludwig made a lot of money per month and had a higher rank in society than most—why hadn't he bought her prettier clothing?

"Hilda, my child?" she said.

"Ja?" asked Hilda.

"You are such a beautiful young lady," Krista told her, holding her hand. "Why do you dress so plainly?" Hilda took her hand out of hers and looked at Elsa, who continued folding her clothes.

"It isn't my fault," the young girl said with uncertainty.

"Does your father make you dress this way?" Krista asked, still disgusted by the poor taste in clothing. Hilda shook her head.

"No, he doesn't," she told her.

"Then who does?" Krista asked.

"Elsa does," Hilda said with a sigh. "She gets my outfits all ready everyday."

"Does your father ever object to her choosing such awful clothes?" Krista asked, her eyebrows pulled together.

"No, but he thinks it's a good idea," Hilda said honestly. "He wants me to dress…decently."

Shaking her head, Krista had discussed this issue with Ludwig later that evening when they were going to bed. Also, she had told him her concerns about Elsa.

"Is your house-maid always so prudish?" she asked, looking at Ludwig, who had his nose in a good book with his glasses on. They were both under the covers, and Krista came closer to him so she was almost cuddling him.

"What is wrong with being prudish?" Ludwig asked, taking his eyes away from his book as he closed it, putting it on his nightstand. "She is an old woman, Krista; what would you expect from her otherwise?"

"Nothing at all, but…do you even notice how Hilda dresses? Elsa picks out all of her clothes she wears and every bit of clothing Hilda has is too drab," the woman told him, gently placing a hand on one of his broad shoulders. "She should be wearing better clothes."

"Listen, Krista," he told her, taking his glasses off to face her. "I have meant to give you some money to go shopping for yourself, but now that you mention it, Hilda needs new clothes as well. So, I'm going to double the amount I was going to give you and Hilda can go with you."

"What about Elsa? She is not coming with us, is she?" Krista asked, resting her head on the soft pillow. Ludwig shook his head and turned off the lamp, turning on his side to face Krista.

"Nein," he told her. "She will not go with you. For once, she will spend alone time with someone who cares for her."

"I am surprised she hasn't called me 'mom' yet," the woman sighed hopelessly. "I guess she isn't used to me yet."

"Don't worry," Ludwig told her, caressing her soft, white face. "She will acknowledge you as such soon. Guten nacht."

"Goedenavond," Krista said as she fell asleep.

The following day, both Krista and Hilda got up early and left for Berlin's upscale shopping district. They started out window shopping until outfits on mannequins caught their eyes. Their first stop was a designer clothing boutique with casual dresses of all styles. Hilda was amazed at all of the beautiful clothes Elsa wouldn't dare let her put on her body, as was Krista, but Krista was confused about how to pay for something with Deutsch marks.

"Hilda, how much do you think this dress would cost in guilders?" Krista asked, holding a beautiful, blood-red casual dress in front of her form, holding out the side of the skirt with the price tag on it. Hilda looked at Krista's fiery crimson tresses and then at the dress—why was she so determined to match her clothing with her hair?

"Krista, I am not sure off the top of my head. Second of all, try wearing more green or blue shades," the young girl suggested, holding two blouses of the colors mentioned in front of her. "Since your hair is such a bright red, it'll play down the tone."

"Why? What's wrong with red?" Krista asked. "I like black as well."

"You look like a demoness, that's why," the girl said frankly. Shocked by what she had said, the woman looked down at the dress she was holding and sighed as she walked in front of a mirror and saw herself. Her eyes had that satanic red tint in them, and as she moved closer to the mirror, she knew Hilda was right—she looked like a she-devil.

"In Amsterdam, you know what my nickname was when I worked as a…hooker?" she asked Hilda, whispering her last word so other shoppers wouldn't say something derogatory to her.

"Ja?" Hilda asked, walking closer to the mirror.

"They called me _dieprodevrouw_," she told her with a streak of pride. Hilda looked confused as she looked on a clothing rack for a dress she liked and was to try on.

"What does that mean?" she asked. "I don't know Dutch, Krista."

"It means 'scarlet woman,'" Krista told her. "Are you familiar with the Bible?"

"Ja. Elsa makes me read it every Sunday because we have never really gone to church," Hilda admitted.

"Have you been raised Catholic?" Krista asked. "I remember christening you shortly after birth."

"Really? My father raised me Protestant," Hilda answered, pulling out a light pink dress with a full skirt.

"I guess my purpose was defeated. I was going to ask you if you have read the Bible enough to know that they called the Whore of Babylon the 'scarlet woman.'" Krista said as she nodded as she turned around to see her daughter with the beautiful blush pink dress. She smiled and gasped.

"Hilda, that would look beautiful on you," she cooed. "Try it on!"

Nodding, Hilda went behind the curtain the small dressing stall. She removed her clothing, but realized that she had difficulty undoing her breast binding. Hearing her groan and struggle to remove it, Krista quickly came to help her out.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I can't take this off," Hilda answered, pulling at the top of her binding.

"May I help you?" Krista asked with her hand on the curtain.

"Ja, bitte," Hilda responded.

Once she opened the curtain and hurried in, Krista was baffled by what she saw wrapped tightly around her daughter's torso. It looked like an old, worn-out satin sash, but the reason why it was so difficult for Hilda to remove it on her own was because it was secured with safety pins in the back. Krista was appalled yet again by this extreme measure of modesty.

"What is that over your bra? Why are you wearing this?" Krista questioned with confusion.

"It's my breast binding, and I wear it so that my back doesn't hurt," the young girl answered as she gathered her long blonde hair and put it over her shoulder so that it hung in front of her. Krista undid the safety pins rapidly and took off the binding, showing Hilda's naturally full, large breasts in her white lace bra.

"Wouldn't this make your back hurt more? Does Elsa put this on you?" she asked, holding it up to her daughter's face. Hilda's hands covered her concealed breasts insecurely, but even her delicate hands couldn't successfully hide their great size.

"Ja, she does. I wear it almost everyday," Hilda told her. Krista sighed and threw the binding on the floor, turning her daughter around to face her to look her in the eye. The young girl's face was red with embarrassment as he placed her arms over her chest—even that made things worse because her cleavage was even bigger than normal.

"Oh, I see why you wear it," Krista told her. "You have very large—"

"Stop it!" Hilda ordered. "I _hate_ the size of my breasts! Do you realize how much pain they cause me? I wear that to prevent back pain and so that girls don't make fun of me in school."

"Hilda, you are growing up," Krista said, placing her arms on her daughter's shoulders. "You don't need to look like a child. You are perfect just the way you are."

"No, I am not. If I go one day without it outside my own home, Elsa will lecture me about tempting men," Hilda said morosely. "She believes women should be modest and…as you say, plain."

"Hilda, some people say that women are a sin by definition," her mother told her. "It wouldn't matter if you wore that constricting garment or not. When did you start wearing that?"

"When my…breasts got bigger," the girl blushed.

"What age?"

"I don't know. I was eleven or twelve."

"Well," Krista said. "If it makes you feel better, you inherited my…bust. I have never worn a binding in my life. I'm proud of my size, and you should be as well."

"But what about—"

"Hilda, you will never wear another…contraption like this again. Do you understand me?" Krista said, holding the binding in a disgraceful manner. Her daughter blushed with embarrassment, hiding her naturally large bust by crossing her arms over them. She nodded unsurely.

The woman helped her daughter get into the blush pink-colored dress, and once she was finished dressing she walked toward the mirror outside of the stall. Krista gasped at the sight of her daughter—she looked like a grown woman in that dress. The skirt flowed out perfectly from her waist, and her breasts were pushed up to form a cleavage similar to her mother's. As Krista stood behind her daughter in front of the mirror, she looked and studied the physical similarities they shared. Hilda had her large eyes, only they were light blue and angelic; she also had inherited her nose and mouth, but she had Ludwig's light blond hair.

"You are so beautiful," she told her daughter, kissing her smooth, white cheek as she smoothed out her long blonde hair. Hilda sighed and looked at herself before setting her eyes on Krista. Now, she was finally comfortable enough to call this woman her mother—her _biological_ mother.

"Krista," she told her. "I…well…I want to tell you that…I am so happy I finally found you."

The woman smiled warmly at her daughter before hugging her close. Krista felt warm tears well in her eyes—she felt so happy to know that Hilda was finally accepting her into her life.


	18. Epilogue

**Hope you enjoyed the story! There may be a sequel coming up soon!**

After that day of shopping and bonding with her mother, Hilda finally felt confident with calling Krista her real mother. She was, it wasn't a matter of not being so, the two were blood and Hilda was finally acknowledging this.

In the coming years, many changes happened in the Bielschmidt household. In spring 1958, Ludwig and Krista were wed in a nice ceremony where Kiku, Roderich, Elizavetha, and Feliciano and his family. Romano only went because his brother told him to, and Emilio only attended the wedding to see Hilda, who wore the blush-pink dress with a diamond pendant and her first pair of high-heeled shoes. The heels were somewhat low, but they matched the dress because they were white and simple. It was one of Krista's biggest gifts to her daughter, for it symbolized womanhood and that she was proud of her for growing up so well.

Krista was a beautiful bride even though she hadn't worn a veil. Her dress was somewhat simple, but it was very elegant. It had a long, full-skirt, and the sleeves were ¾ and made of fine Belgian lace. Around her neck was a ruby pendant and she held a bunch of scarlet red roses in her hands. This wedding was like no other because there were no bridesmaids and there was no best man—however, Hilda served as the ring bearer for a moment by getting up from her pew to give the pastor the rings. Upon exchanging vows and rings, the pastor made his final statement.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride," he told them. Ludwig took Krista into his arms and looked down into her eyes lovingly. At last, he had married the mother of Hilda.

"Ich liebe dich," he whispered. Krista knew what he meant and smiled up at him with her pearly white teeth.

"Ik hou van je, Ludwig," she told him as they shared a kiss in front of the attendants. It was tender, soft kiss that was quick but passionate. The bride and groom faced the attendants as the pastor spoke.

"I present to you Herr and Frau Bielschmidt," he announced as the couple made their way back down the aisle as hundreds of grains of rice were thrown at them.

The reception was held at one of the best halls in Berlin, and while all the guests were seated, Ludwig and his new wife were escorted into the hall, where everyone ate and danced. Once the time for their first dance came, everybody watched as Krista and Ludwig illuminated the dance floor with their slow swaying and occasional kissing. Once the dance ended, everybody went to join them on the dance floor. Hilda, without a dance partner, just sat in her seat until a familiar face came and extended his hand out to her. Looking up, she saw it was Emilio—she had not seen him in quite a while, but he was still incredibly handsome with his dark brown hair, amber-brown eyes, and defined facial features.

"Posso avere questa danza?" he asked. Hilda took his hand and stood up slowly, looking deeply into his eyes.

"Prima," she began. "Posso avere un'abbracia?" she asked. Smiling, Emilio took the beautiful young girl in his arms and held her tightly.

"Non ho visto ti in un tempo lungo," he whispered, kissing her cheek romantically. "Sei bellissima, Hilda. Com'é la Germania?"

"É la stessa di sempre. Dopo tutto, sono cresciuta qui," Hilda told him matter-of-factly. Emilio smiled, taking her to the dancefloor to sway to the music. The two gazed into each other's eyes deeply, deciphering emotions that didn't seem present in their expressions.

"Hilda," he told her with a slight whisper. "So sei molto giovane, ma posso chiedere una domanda?"

"Si?" she said, resting her head on his shoulder as he held her hand to his beating heart, which burned with love for her at that moment. He moved closer to whisper in her ear—he didn't want to be heard by anyone but Hilda.

"Se dovessi chiederti di essere la mia ragazza, cosa diresti?" he questioned. He hoped for a positive answer, but Hilda came up with something totally vague.

"Mi ritengo molto fortunato ad essere con ti," Hilda said.

"Spedisci una lettera a me," Emilio told her. "Spedisci una millione lettere."

"Manderò una lettera. Te lo prometto," she told him.

Emilio cupped her face in his hands gently, caressing her smooth, white skin as his lips brushed hers. They kissed passionately, but once she saw Emilio leaving the hall, a certain longing within her grew as she saw him walk away.


End file.
